St Joseph's Shelter for Men
by orange-sunshiine
Summary: The stories of several Johnny Depp characters living together. Contains mpreg. Forewarned is forearmed.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This idea originally came from Hedo's fanfiction "The Johnny Depp Maternity Ward". It's sort of a really long continuation of that idea, but with a few more characters. **

**Phish Tacko helped me beta this. She is absolutely one of the best authors on this site, so go check her page out! She has many wonderful stories and I am EXTREMELY grateful for all of her help with this. Further, the characters of Carlie Hightopp and Harvey Montgomery are hers – she just let me rent them for the story. Nurse Ashley is my character. =)**

**This is an MPREG fanfic, and there are also mentions of rape in this story – it's not that graphic, but if either of those bother you, turn back now.**

**Chapter 1**

So, it was decided that the easiest way to deal with four pregnant men, and one man who thought he was pregnant, was by having them all under one roof. The doctor had both personal and professional reasons for running the shelter. Knowing that he was helping others, and that he could write a great research paper on the residents – one that would make his career – made the doctor more than willing to spend his money on it.

There were several bedrooms, but everyone was divided up so as to save space in case other patients were to arrive. The doctor got one room, while Edward and Jack had another. Willy and Ichabod shared a room, as they seemed to get along fairly well, and Mort... well, Mort had his own place to stay, since he was "special".

Everyone had taken the morning to get unpacked, and soon enough it came time for dinner. The doctor had made what looked like a bunch of good, nutritious food: green beans, chicken, potatoes, and a salad.

Everyone began helping themselves, except Edward. As he did not have hands to eat with, the doctor had bought him some type of disgusting looking protein drink instead. The boy looked on sadly as everyone around him enjoyed their food, wishing that he could partake in it as well.

No one seemed to notice how sad and quiet Edward was. No one except Ichabod. He knew what it felt like to be an outcast and he felt extremely bad for the boy. Sighing, he got up, picked up his chair, and headed over to sit between the doctor and Edward.

"Can you move?" He asked, annoyed that the doctor had made no effort to let him in.

The doctor rolled his eyes, but moved to let Ichabod in.

Ichabod smiled at Edward, took a plate and filled it with food, and began feeding it to him. He got some odd looks from the other people, especially Wonka, who thought sharing food like that was just germy and gross. The constable ignored them all, though, and urged Edward to do the same.

"Don't pay attention," He said, loudly, as he began feeding Edward some salad, "They should be mature enough mind their own business."

Edward nodded slightly, "Okay."

Sparrow looked as if he were about to say something in reaction to Ichabod's statement, but Mort, who actually did have a tiny bit of a soul left inside him, jabbed him in the leg with a fork when he saw Jack open his mouth. The rest of the dinner was spent in a somewhat awkward silence.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Phish Tacko beta'd this. Go check out her page, she's an awesome author!**

**Chapter 2**

After dinner, Dr. Schnabel asked Edward to come to his office. Everyone had been given exams to assess how far along they were and how healthy they were. Edward had been the only one who had yet to receive an exam.

The first thing that Dr. Schnabel did was offer Edward a new set of clothes, as the leather suit he was wearing probably wouldn't hold up too well as he progressed in his pregnancy. It was a simple pair of black sweatpants and a black and red tee-shirt. They were something that would've been easy for most people to get on, but for Edward, it would've taken a tremendous effort. Noting this, the doctor quietly offered to help the young man get undressed and to put on the new clothes.

Dr. Schnabel undid the buckles on Edward's suit, eventually finding a zipper hidden in the back. He pulled the suit down, to reveal Edward's pale, scarred body. Had it not been for the scars, his body would've been almost perfect. The only other thing that threw it off a bit was that he was starting to show. Not much, but enough that his belly stuck out a little. It seemed kind of awkward considering how thin the rest of him was.

Edward stood there very quietly as Dr. Schnabel helped him, only moving when necessary. For his part, the doctor tried to remain as professional as possible, not wanting to make Edward feel awkward.

When he was finally dressed in his new clothes, the doctor led him over to the exam table.

"I need to take your blood pressure, pulse, height, weight, and then we're going to do an ultrasound," He explained.

Edward nodded, but said nothing.

"Please hold out your arm for me."

Edward did as instructed, and the doctor took his blood pressure. It was a perfect 110 over 70. Edward's pulse was good, too, at 50 beats per minute.

"You have a very strong heart," The doctor said, writing his findings down. "Your blood pressure and pulse rate are excellent."

"My father designed me to be healthy," Edward said, very quietly.

"Well… he did a good job. Over to the scale, please," The doctor said, motioning towards the corner of the room.

Edward got off the table and shuffled over, staring at the scale and all of the numbers and buttons on it curiously.

"Just… stand on that," Dr. Schnabel directed.

Edward got up on it, watching as the numbers jumped around. Dr. Schnabel was busy trying to measure his height while this happened.

"Looks like you're 5'10 and 140… but I'm going to take off five pounds because of your… hands."

"Okay."

"Last thing is the ultrasound. Can you get back on the table, for me? Lay down and… well, I'll help you with your shirt," The doctor said.

Edward climbed back up onto the table and lay down, not protesting as the doctor pulled his shirt up to expose his stomach.

"This will be a little bit cold," Schnabel told him as he began to rub the ultrasound gel on his patient. Edward didn't even flinch, just kind of stared into space as Schnabel prepped him.

"So you've been having symptoms for how long, now?" The doctor asked, as he moved the ultrasound wand around.

"About a month."

The doctor nodded. He stopped moving the wand a second later, and began looking over the image on the ultrasound machine.

"Well… you're definitely pregnant," He said. "And it looks like you're about a month and a half along."

"Okay."

"And… it looks like you're having twins."

That caused a reaction. Dr. Schnabel hadn't thought that Edward could get any paler than he was, but he did.

"T-twins?" He asked, eyes wide as he stared at the doctor.

"Yes. Here, you can see…" The doctor turned the machine so that Edward could see the images on it.

Edward didn't make a sound, and Dr. Schnabel realized that he wasn't breathing.

"Edward! Breathe!" He admonished, causing the boy to look at him.

Edward took a deep breath.

"There's two of them…"

"Yes."

"So I'll have to take care of two babies…" He trailed off.

"Yes."

"I need to go," Edward said, pushing the doctor's hand away from him. He sat up, and pulled his shirt down the best he could.

"Alright…" The doctor said, watching as Edward shuffled out of the office as quickly as possible. He followed Edward into the hallway, noticing that the young man walked directly into the nearest bathroom. A second later, he could hear Edward retching loudly. Seeing as it was eight o'clock at night, the doctor figured that nerves were making the poor boy sick more than anything else.

00

Later that evening, after everyone had retired to bed, Jack Sparrow still lay awake. Edward was awake, too, and seemed to be quietly sobbing on the bed next to Jack's, and it was driving him nuts. He tried everything he could think of to block out the sniffling and moaning, but nothing was working. It was getting to be unbearable.

Finally, sometime around 2 in the morning, Jack had enough. He got up, walked to Edward's bed, and shook the young man violently.

"GET UP." He demanded.

Edward turned to him, tears still running down his face.

"If you're not going to shut up, then you should go sleep on the couch." Jack pointed at the door.

Edward said nothing, just sniffed and got up and left.

00

Edward walked into the common room to find Ichabod already there, watching reruns of The Big Bang theory. Hearing footsteps, Ichabod looked up and noticed that Edward was crying.

"Are you okay?" He asked, standing up. He got to Edward's side and guided the young man to the sofa. "What's wrong?"

Edward sniffed. "Nothing… don't worry about it."

"Well it has to be something if you're out here at 2 am."

Edward just shook his head, tears still running silently down his face.

"I was going to get some chamomile tea, to relax. Would you like some?" Ichabod offered.

"Please," Edward whispered.

Ichabod nodded and got back up, making his way to the kitchen.

Apparently he and Edward were not the only people having trouble sleeping, because Mort was already there, poking through the fridge.

"Hey." Mort greeted him, pulling out some leftover chicken, some Tabasco sauce and a bottle of chocolate sauce.

Ichabod stared at Mort, then at the combination of food that he had. "You're going to eat that? Together?"

Mort shrugged. "Uncontrollable cravings. What can I tell you? Do you know if we have any nacho chips?"

"Er… I think there's a bag in the pantry."

"Cool. Thanks." Mort began rifling through the pantry as Ichabod started on the tea. He couldn't help but stare as Mort picked apart various pieces of chicken and put them on a plate of nachos, and then covered the whole thing with the Tabasco sauce and chocolate sauce. It took all of his willpower to keep from saying "ew".

Mort seemed to be caught up in his own little world of weird food, so at least he didn't notice Ichabod.

"Smell ya later," Mort said, taking his plate of food and heading out of the kitchen.

Ichabod just raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Soon enough the tea was done, and he poured it into two mugs, then brought it back into the common room. By the point, Edward was a little calmer. At least he'd stopped crying.

"Feeling better?" Ichabod asked, putting his own cup of tea down. He instinctively went to hand the other mug to Edward, then realized that the boy would've been unable to hold it.

"A little," Edward replied, staring down at his own hands.

"I brought you tea… I... Well I guess you can't drink it on your own, so, uh, here." Ichabod placed the mug against Edward's lips, letting him take a few sips of the hot liquid. It seemed to relax him a bit, at least. The two sat there silently, as Ichabod took turns giving Edward tea and drinking his own.

When they were finished, the constable spoke up again.

"Do you want to talk about what was bothering you?" he asked.

Edward shrugged. "I'm scared," He whispered, the look of sadness once again returning to his features.

"Of being a father?"

"Of having two babies to take care of. I couldn't take care of one, never mind two. Not with…" he trailed off, lifting his hands a little to show Ichabod.

"Well. It'll be hard, but I'm sure you can find a way to do it. A lot of people have… disabilities… and they are able to overcome them and lead mostly normal lives."

"How am I going to change their clothes or their diapers or feed them with no hands?" Edward snapped. He was tired of hearing people give him the same old speech about overcoming adversity and all that crap. The truth was that he would never be able to function normally unless he magically woke up with actual hands one day.

"I.. don't know what to say," Ichabod finally confessed, "I didn't mean to make you upset. Maybe Dr. Schnabel will let you stay here with him and he can help you."

Edward's expression softened a little, and he didn't seem angry any more. "It's alright. I'll ask him. But I'm already a burden. I was a burden on the Boggs and I'll be a burden here with the doctor if I stay."

"You're not a burden," Ichabod replied.

Edward stared at Ichabod, as if to say, "you're really going to suggest that?"

"What exactly can I do besides provide extra scissors and cut the plants outside?"

"You're a good person, a loving person, and that alone is valuable. A lot of people are bad or angry or hurtful, and you're none of that. You're rare because of it."

"I guess that's fair," Edward said, "It's just… hard."

"I'm sorry," Ichabod said, frowning.

Edward then yawned. Ichabod realized that he was probably very tired.

"Why don't you go back to bed?"

"Yeah. Maybe Jack's asleep by now."

"Why does that matter?"

Edward shook his head, "Don't worry about it." He stood up. "Thanks for everything, Ichabod. Have a good night."

"You too," Ichabod called after him. He still wasn't tired, so a few more episodes of Big Bang Theory sounded good.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Phish Tacko beta'd this. Go check out her page, she's an awesome author!**

**Chapter 3**

Willy Wonka was happy. REALLY happy. Bouncing off the walls and smiling that creepy smile with those creepy perfect teeth.

It was getting rather annoying, actually, and everyone seemed to be putting their best effort into not punching him in the face.

Two days in, though, Mort had just about had enough of it.

"GOOOOOOOOOOOOD Morning, Starshine!" Willy sang out as Mort came out of the bathroom from his second round of puking that morning.

Mort just glared at him, but said nothing.

"What, no 'good morning' back?" Wonka asked, grinning that stupid grin. Mort scowled at him.

"Good morning..." He growled, clenching his fists together.

"Wow, guess someone's got the mood swings today!" Wonka said, taking a step into the bathroom.

That was it. The final straw. Mort, and the rest of the house, had been listening to Wonka's goddamn chocolate-loving hippy talk for two days so far, and that was two days too long. He was going to stop this _now_.

"Wonka!" Mort growled, as he shoved the chocolatier against the wall, hand around his neck.

Willy's eyes got big, and his jaw dropped. He looked terrified.

"W-what?" He finally asked, after Mort had held him in place for a good fifteen seconds. It was getting hard to breathe.

Mort increased the pressure on Wonka's neck before speaking.

"I am _tired_ of your fucking _attitude_. Stop with the happy shit. And don't you ever, EVER, call me 'Starshine' again, or so help me, they'll never find your body."

The rage in Mort's eyes was apparent, and Wonka knew it was best to keep quiet.

"O-okay," He finally whispered. Mort let him down, still glaring daggers at him.

Wonka slunk away after that, into the bathroom, where he remained for most of the morning, too afraid to come out.

00

"Anyone know what's wrong with William?" Ichabod asked later that day as the rest of the group sat in the living room. South Park was on, a general favorite for everyone (except Ichabod, who found the show's humor to be rather crude and preferred Big Bang Theory anyway).

Sparrow shrugged. "What do ya mean?"

"He's been acting odd all day. He locked himself in the bathroom for five hours earlier... and he's currently in our room now, just staring at the wall. He's not doing that... happy... stuff either, anymore."

Mort couldn't help but smirk.

"Do ya know something?" Sparrow asked, noticing Mort's grin.

"What? Me? Nope. Don't know nothing."

Ichabod raised an eyebrow, "Somehow I don't believe you."

"Me either," Sparrow replied, "What did ya do to 'im? Not that I mind it, I'd have stabbed him myself if he didn't stop soon."

"I didn't do anything." Mort grinned again. "Maybe he's just tired of being happy."

Edward turned to Mort, and looked at him with big puppy-dog eyes, as if judging him.

"Problem?" Mort asked the boy.

Quickly, Edward shook his head 'no'.

Ichabod sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. "As frustrating as William's actions and statements may be, it's not right to hurt him."

"No one hurt him," Mort answered, eyes focused on the television again.

"It would've been better just to talk to him like a civilized human," Ichabod continued.

Mort rolled his eyes, "Keep talking. Keep going down that road, little man. See where it gets you."

"Is that a threat?" Ichabod asked, clearly offended.

Now it was Sparrow's turn to roll his eyes. "Are ye really gonna take him on, Crane?"

"I, um," Ichabod started, caught off guard by the comment, "I'm not going to take a threat lying down. I'll... I'll go tell Doctor Schnabel."

"Great, so you're a know it all _and_ a rat. Great combination," Mort said.

"I'm not a rat!" Ichabod answered, "Or a know it all. I resent that!"

"You're a rat for sure. We'd have made ya walk the plank on the Pearl," Sparrow replied.

Ichabod looked to Edward, who sheepishly nodded his head in agreement, "You should just leave it alone," The boy added, softly.

"Hmph," Ichabod sighed "Someone once said that evil triumphs when good men do nothing, and I don't intend to stand by and let you harm another guest in this house."

Before anyone could reply, Ichabod shuffled out of the room.

00

"Mort, would you come to my office for a few moments?" Dr. Schnabel asked, way too calmly.

Mort looked up from the computer he was typing on.

"No." He answered, turning back to his writing, "I'm busy."

"I'm afraid it's rather important," The doctor answered, "I'll have to insist that you come."

Mort rolled his eyes, "Fine, whatever." He switched off his monitor, and followed the doctor down the hall.

Dr. Schnabel's office was painted a hideous shade of pink. No doubt the color was intended to comfort patients in some weird way. It probably would've worked in an abortion clinic, or a home for battered women, or something to that extent. Too bad this was a shelter for men. Mort couldn't help but think how ugly the color was.

He was dwelling on that when Dr. Schnabel shut the door behind him, rather loudly. It was evident that the doctor was bothered by something. He motioned for Mort to have a seat in the chair next to his desk.

"So, I heard there was a bit of an... altercation with Willy earlier," Schnabel stated.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Mort deadpanned, refusing to make eye contact.

"I think you do." The doctor took out a notebook, and began scribbling notes as he stared at Mort.

"...Stupid little rat-fink..." Mort mumbled.

"Rat-fink?" Schnabel scribbled some more notes.

Mort sighed loudly, "Yeah, yeah. I know Ichabod told you. Let's just get this over with. What kind of punishment do you have in mind?"

The doctor seemed somewhat surprised by this response. "The only 'punishment' in store for you is discussing why you attacked him. And of course, you'll have to apologize to him as well. So, tell me Mort, why'd you do it?"

And so began the longest hour of Mort's life.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Phish Tacko beta'd this. Go check out her page, she's an awesome author!**

**Chapter 4**

Mort emerged from Dr. Schnabel's office later that evening, face tear stained and feeling utterly drained. The doctor, who also had a degree in psychology aside from his MD, had dug deeply into Mort's psyche, making him drag up memories that he hadn't thought of in years. It'd been dually cathartic and humiliating. Mort hadn't cried in front of anyone, ever. Not even his own parents when he was a little boy. And now, this doctor had poked and pulled at his mind enough to reduce him to tears in minutes.

Someone was going to pay for that.

First, though, he had to go issue his apology to Wonka. He cringed at the thought. Apologizing to that fruit cake was the last thing he wanted to do, but Schnabel had cornered him into it, threatening to make him _share a room _with Wonka if he didn't. And that... well, that would probably just lead to Mort smothering the chocolatier in his sleep.

Taking a deep breath, and pushing all of his rage down inside, Mort knocked on the door to Wonka's room.

There was no answer.

Frowning, Mort knocked again. "Wonka? You in there?" he asked, poking his head

inside.

"W-what do you want?" came a small voice, from the corner.

"I, uh, came to... apologize." Mort said the last word extremely softly, almost so softly that Wonka couldn't hear it.

He heard a soft sigh before Wonka spoke up again.

"Come in..."

Mort walked in, and for the first time could see that Wonka was curled up on his bed, facing the wall, and holding a teddy bear. He tried not to cringe. What type of grown man sleeps with a teddy bear?!

He forced himself to snap back to his present task.

"I, uh, I'm sorry for shoving you up against the wall and choking you and threatening you." The apology was quite obviously forced, but Mort hoped that perhaps Wonka wouldn't pick up on it.

Wonka sniffled, turned around and sat up, still clutching the teddy bear to his chest. Mort could see now that the normally neat man's hair was very messed up, spread in all directions from lying in bed all day. His eyes were bloodshot and swollen, too. Seeing this, a small part of Mort actually felt kind of guilty.

"Please don't apologize if you don't mean it," Willy said, under his breath. He looked _so _sad. Mort couldn't help it. He had to be nice.

"I... Uh, I mean it. I'm sorry. You didn't deserve it."

Wonka nodded, "Yeah, okay. Thanks."

"Don't be afraid to come out. I won't hurt you."

"Okay."

"Yeah. So..."

"Yeah..."

"I'll just be going now. Nice, uh, bear by the way."

Wonka looked down at the bear in his hands, and suddenly a smile crossed his face. "Thanks! His name is Mr. Buttons and I've had him since I was seven. Best 'assistant' I ever had, let me tell ya... never tells anyone my secret recipes..." The man started to ramble.

Mort felt the familiar feeling of absolute rage rising up in him again, so he made it a point to get out, lest he do something he might regret.

"Wonka!" He said, startling the man and making him shut up, "I mean, Willy. I have to go."

"Oh... okay," Wonka said, sounding sad again.

"Not feeling well." Mort put a hand over his mouth, pretending to feel sick, "See ya later!"

He ran out of the room and slammed the door behind him before Wonka could say anything else.

"Oh, God…" Great. Now he really WAS starting to feel sick.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Phish Tacko beta'd this. Go check out her page, she's an awesome author!**

**Chapter 5**

Somewhere between puking up lunch and eating dinner, Mort decided that Ichabod was definitely going to pay for his actions. Definitely. No doubt about it. Ichabod was never going to forget it, either. Maybe the little rat-fink would learn a lesson, then.

Mort's revenge didn't occur until early the next morning, though.

It'd been the feeling of pressure on his chest that had woken the constable up, and he opened his eyes to get the shock of his life.

Mort, who was dressed in an acid-green Myrtle Beach t-shirt and Superman pajama pants, was straddling his scrawny chest, staring down at him, a psychotic look in his eyes.

"OH!" Ichabod yelped. He tried to move, but couldn't. Mort had him pinned down.

"You talk in your sleep," Mort said coolly, grinning.

"Y-you watched me? How long have you been in here?!" Once again Ichabod tried to move, but Mort kept holding him down.

"Long enough to hear you call out for Katrina half a dozen times. Is she your girlfriend? Can't imagine any woman that would want anything to do with a rat like you. You're like Sheldon Cooper, but worse. This Katrina woman must be the Amy type."

Ichabod's eyes got wide, and Mort watched as he started to panic.

"H-how did you get in? I didn't even hear you!" The constable was starting to hyperventilate.

Mort placed a hand over Ichabod's mouth to quiet him. The action only made the constable panic more.

"Listen. I'm warning you now: Don't. Fuck. With. Me. Again."

Ichabod nodded quickly, "Okay, okay!"

Mort grinned again, and looked across the room, where Wonka was still sleeping peacefully.

"Look at that! Didn't even wake your roommate. Just think what I could get away with, being as quiet as I was."

Ichabod started to breathe even harder, if it were possible, and then, just like that, his eyes rolled back in his head and he was unconscious.

Mort smirked as he climbed off the bed. "Well, that was easy."

00

Breakfast that morning was awkward, for a number of reasons.

Jack was currently sitting in his chair, staring at the pancakes that Schnabel had made, looking about the deepest shade of green humanly possible. The smell of it just didn't agree with him, and if he had less pride, he'd have already ran out of the room and thrown up by that point. But, of course, he was trying to hold out, not wanting to damage his reputation by getting sick in front of the others.

Wonka was talking excitedly to no one in particular about how he thought he had felt his baby kick. He was the furthest along, so it made sense that he was feeling it, but no one was particularly interested.

Ichabod was playing with his food, not actually eating or making eye contact with anyone, while Mort was busy playing with the button on his jeans, which he found he couldn't fasten.

"Damn Levis..." He muttered, trying his best to shift to a comfortable position. "Can't wait to have this baby..."

"Mort, you're not actually pregnant," Dr. Schnabel started, staring that the writer.

"Remember? We've had this discussion."

"Yeah, you're just fat," Jack chimed in. Ichabod and Wonka looked at him like he had three heads. Was this guy _really_ going to say that to the crazy person?!

Mort glared at him, "I _AM_ PREGNANT! HOW ELSE DO YOU EXPLAIN THE PUKING AND THE MOOD SWINGS AND THE HOT FLASHES?!"

Dr. Schnabel sighed, "It's in your head, Mort."

"IT IS _NOT_ IN MY HEAD!"

Suddenly, everyone's attention was drawn to Edward, who had tears running down his face. The screaming was too much for him in his highly emotional state.

"Why do you keep fighting?" He asked, in his usual soft voice.

Ichabod frowned, but said nothing. Dr. Schnabel moved to pat Edward on the back.

"I'm sorry, Edward."

Edward sniffed, "It's just… It's not fair. You're all NORMAL and you all fight and complain all the time, imagine how it is for ME!"

Everyone looked shocked. Edward never complained about his scissor hands or being pregnant with twins. "I won't even be able to HOLD my children!"

Ichabod was just about to speak up and say something comforting, when there was a retching sound from the other side of the table. Everyone's eyes turned to the pirate, and the writer sitting next to him, the latter of which was now covered in vomit and looking thoroughly horrified and slightly nauseated.

"Ew…"

Yes, it was going to be a long morning.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Phish Tacko beta'd this. Go check out her page, she's an awesome author!**

**Chapter 6**

Only a few days later, it came time for everyone to have their routine checkups to see how they and their unborn children were doing. All morning, the doctor did his rounds, pulling people from their rooms and having them submit to an exam.

Edward was first, as Dr. Schnabel considered him one of the easiest to get along with.

He had the man lay down on the exam table, and had helped him pull up his shirt to do an ultrasound.

"Well," the doctor said, moving the wand around on Edward's stomach, "the twins look very healthy. You're about thirteen weeks along, at the beginning of the second trimester. Here, take a look." He moved the ultrasound screen so Edward could see it.

The moment Edward saw it, his eyes filled with tears. There were his children. Granted, they looked more similar to alien blobs right then, but there they were. And, they appeared to have hands! That alone made Edward emotional. His children would at least have what he didn't. Maybe they could have normal lives. Maybe. If living with a deformed recluse didn't do them in.

Dr. Schnabel smiled kindly, took a tissue, and helped Edward wipe his eyes.

"They're beautiful..." The younger man said, still staring at the picture, "Absolutely perfect."

"Do you want to know their sexes?"

Edward thought the question over for a moment. "I guess it would be better to know," he replied.

The doctor nodded, and moved the wand around some more. "Looks like... a boy and a girl!"

Edward smiled the biggest smile that the doctor had ever seen on him. "Wow."

"So, in this trimester, you should know that the babies are going to grow a lot, and your symptoms might change, so please feel free to come to me with any questions."

"Thanks..." Edward said, once again looking at the screen. Dr. Schnabel let him lay there and stare awhile longer before printing him out a few photos, and promising to help him tape them up near his bed so he could look at them easily.

Next up was Jack. Jack was not as easy going as Edward was, and put up a fight about having to be examined. Eventually Dr. Schnabel just grabbed him by his dreads and dragged him into the room.

"Lie on the table and pull up your shirt," The doctor instructed, not in the mood for any more bullshit from the pirate.

"No," Jack replied, crossing his arms over his chest, "I don't need a bloody exam. Do you know how many times I've been injured on my ship, and not had medical treatment for weeks? I can survive having a baby without a doctor too. So if you don't mind, I'll just be going now." He began walking towards the door.

Knowing that Jack was probably just being moody due to the influx of hormones coursing through his body, Schnabel decided to play on his maternal (or was it paternal?) instincts.

"It's not fair to your child if you don't let me check you. What if he or she has a medical issue that could be corrected prior to birth? Do you _want_ to make your child potentially suffer?"

Jack stopped dead in his tracks and turned around.

"Well, when you put it like that..."

"Lay down on the table, then."

Jack did as he was told. He lifted up his shirt, and flinched when the doctor applied the ice cold gel that was necessary for the ultrasound machine to work.

"So," The doctor said, as he moved the wand around, "Any symptoms or problems you want to discuss while we're behind closed doors?"

Jack mumbled something, but the doctor didn't catch it.

"I'm sorry?" he asked, "I couldn't understand you"

Jack sighed, "I just said that I'mhavinghotflashes." The last words came out as one jumbled sentence, and it took the doctor a few seconds to understand it.

"Oh. Yes, that's normal." The doctor replied.

Jack rolled his eyes. "Well thank you, but how about fixing it, doctor?"

The doctor stopped moving the wand, focusing on an image on the screen.

"Can't fix it. It's because of the estrogen. Your body isn't used to it. All I can suggest is getting an ice pack or ice water, if you are nearby the kitchen when it happens, or lying down. It'll make the hot flashes pass quicker. And here," He said, turning the screen to face Jack. "is your baby."

Jack looked at the screen for a second, and blinked.

"Ugly little thing, ain't it?"

Now it was Doctor Schnabel's turn to roll his eyes. "It's obviously not fully developed yet."

"And you're sure it's not some parasite? Maybe something I picked up on the ship? The drinking water's not particularly clean there, you know."

The doctor sighed, "I am extremely sure that it is not a water-born parasite."

"An alien?" Jack tried.

"It's a human fetus," The doctor answered. He was starting to get annoyed. "Do you want to know the sex?"

Jack shrugged, "Yeah, alright."

"It's a girl."

"Oh, great. I can look forward to beating off her suitors in my old age."

"Do you have any other questions, Jack?" Dr. Schnabel asked, putting the wand down.

"Yeah, how much longer 'til the little bugger's out?"

"You are approximately twelve weeks along, so another six months."

"Great. Another six months of this. That sounds great. Just absolutely bloody great."

Ichabod was the third patient of the morning, and thankfully, he came to Schnabel's office willingly.

The doctor took one look at him, and instead of starting with an ultrasound, ordered the constable over to the scale. He moved the numbers around and marked down the number.

"You need to gain weight," the doctor said, motioning to the exam table, "At least another eight pounds by next month. You're too small for someone almost four months pregnant."

Ichabod frowned.

"I'm naturally small."

"Yes, I understand that, but if you want your baby to be healthy, you need to eat more."

"Alright," Ichabod agreed. He lay down on the table, and allowed the doctor to perform the ultrasound.

"Everything seems okay," Schnabel said, showing Ichabod the image on the machine as he did for everyone else.

Ichabod merely nodded, but said nothing.

"Do you want to know if it's a boy or a girl?"

"I'd rather be surprised."

"That's fine. Any questions or concerns, then?"

"How, um, will the baby come out?" Ichabod asked, somewhat nervously.

"Well… men do have one bit that can be used as a birth canal…" The doctor trailed off.

All of the color drained from Ichabod's already pale face, and for a moment the doctor worried that he might pass out.

"...Oh. For the love of God, tell me you're going to sedate me for that," Ichabod finally said. "If I have to push, I would rather not feel like I'm being ripped in half."

"We'll be sure to give you an epidural when the time comes. Don't worry about that."

"...Okay..." Ichabod swallowed and chuckled nervously.

"Anything else?"

"N-no."

"Okay, then."

The doctor watched as Ichabod got off the table, and quietly made his way towards the door.

"Have a great day!" He called out as Ichabod left the room. The constable didn't reply.

Wonka was the fourth person that Dr. Schnabel saw, and for once, he wasn't in an overly happy mood.

"Something the matter?" The doctor asked, seeing Wonka's long face.

Wonka frowned, "Well, I.. I guess it's not _really_ a big deal..."

"Why don't you have a seat and tell me about it, anyway."

The doctor took out his notebook as Wonka sat on the exam table, facing him. He rested a hand on his large stomach.

"It's just... I recently noticed that certain things really disgust me. Certain foods, mainly. If I see them or smell them I feel sick."

"Okay," The doctor said, writing some notes, "Go on."

Wonka took a deep breath before speaking, "What I am trying to say is that every time I even look at chocolate, I feel sick. It's terrible!"

Dr. Schnabel considered his patient's perspective before finally replying.

"I can understand why this would bother you, but it is completely normal."

"But what if I'm always like this?" Wonka sputtered, "What if after I have this kid, I still hate chocolate? I couldn't work anymore! What else could I possibly do with my life?"

"Make other candy?" Schnabel suggested.

The look on Wonka's face told him that this answer did not help one iota.

"Really, Willy, it is unlikely that after you give birth you will still have the same aversion to chocolate."

"...But there's still a chance!" Wonka cried, "Isn't there anything you can give me for this?"

The doctor put his clipboard down, "Willy, first off, take a deep breath. Getting upset like this is not good for yourself or your child."

Wonka did as he was told, and took a deep breath.

"Now. There is nothing I can really give you for this. It just is what it is. I think you should not worry about what might happen after you have your baby. Take it day by day. If you still have this problem then, we can look into various medications. It will be safer once you give birth."

"O-okay." Wonka looked at the doctor with big, sad eyes. He took another deep breath.

"Good. Now, perhaps seeing your child will cheer you up?"

Wonka nodded.

"Lay down and pull up your shirt."

It only took Dr. Schnabel a few seconds to get a good picture of Willy's baby. He showed his patient the screen. "That's your child."

Wonka immediately smiled, all of his fears melting away instantly.

"She's amazing!"

Dr. Schnabel raised an eyebrow.

"You can tell that it's a girl?"

"Oh, yes. I just know it. And one of my workers predicted it awhile back. I'm right, right?"

"Er, yes. It's a girl."

"I'm going to call her Rae," Wonka beamed, looking once again at the picture.

"Rae? Why?"

"Because she'll be my ray of sunshine, silly!" Wonka answered, still grinning.

"That's... actually kind of sweet."

Wonka nodded, "Of course it's sweet. I _do_ make candy after all."

Dr. Schnabel had saved Mort for last, knowing that he would probably be his most difficult patient, especially considering that he wasn't actually having a baby.

And he was right.

Mort was already grumbling about something as he walked through the door.

"Problems, Mort?" The doctor asked.

"Yeah, there's problems! This stupid kid is so big that I can't wear my favorite jeans anymore, and I've had those jeans since I was in college! Not to mention the constipation and constantly having to pee. Oh, oh, and the back aches! My lower back constantly hurts. And when will this morning sickness stop?"

The doctor took a deep breath, watching as Mort hopped up on the exam table. "If you eat healthier it will slow your weight gain down a little bit, and if you eat more fiber you won't be constipated. Apply ice and heat every now and then on your back when it hurts."

"I eat plenty healthy!" Mort replied angrily, "It's not my fault the kid's so big!"

"Doritos and ice cream don't count as healthy, even if they contain corn and milk. And Mort, how many times do we have to go over this? You're not pregnant. All of this is in your head."

"Then why are you letting me stay here, if I'm not pregnant?"

"Because you have nowhere to go and you obviously need psychological help. It would be against the doctor's oath to turn you away. Now, let's get your weight and blood pressure and then you can go back to writing, okay?"

"Whatever. You'll see. I just hope you're nice enough to help me when I have this baby without any pre-natal care."

"I will be. I promise," Schnabel said, figuring it might be best just to 'yes' Mort for now. He began wrapping the blood pressure cuff around Mort's arm, "Now be quiet and let me see this."

A minute later, he was done. "Your blood pressure's high. You need to calm down, or I'm going to have to put you on medication for this."

"I COULD CALM DOWN IF SOMEONE HERE WOULD FUCKING BELIEVE THAT I WAS PREGNANT!" Mort yelled, pulling the blood pressure cuff off and throwing it on the ground.

"Mort! Stop yelling. Let's just finish this exam, okay?"

"What, do you want me to get on the scale just so you can tell me what a fat ass I am? Tell me how it's all in my head again?" Mort asked. The doctor noticed that his face was getting red, and he looked like he might cry.

"I would never call you names." He paused, thinking things over. Finally the doctor spoke up when he noticed tears running down Mort's cheeks.

"Perhaps it would be best if you go back to your room... we can always do this another day."

Mort left shortly after that, but not before kicking the trashcan across the room on the way out.

"Didn't even bother with an ultrasound."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Phish Tacko beta'd this. Go check out her page, she's an awesome author!**

**Chapter 7**

That evening, as everyone gathered for dinner, Dr. Schnabel stood up to make an announcement.

"Tonight we are going to do a group bonding exercise," He explained as everyone stared at him intently. "We're going to have a campfire out back."

The doctor smiled as everyone actually seemed to look excited. None of the residents there really got out much, so even just going out in the backyard to have a fire was probably a bit of an adventure.

"Can we have s'mores?" Someone asked. Dr. Schnabel looked to see Edward staring at him, expecting an answer to his question.

Dr. Schnabel smirked, "Sure, Edward. We can have s'mores if you want."

Edward grinned, "Thank you."

As dinner wound down, Dr. Schnabel spoke up again. "Now, everyone, as it is rather cold outside, I suggest you all dress accordingly. Sweaters, jackets, all that. The fire will help a little bit, but it will still be cold."

"Okay," A few people agreed, while others continued talking amongst themselves, excited about getting out for a bit.

Around 7 pm, everyone gathered outside. The doctor had gotten the fire burning already, and had set up a little table with graham crackers, chocolate, and marshmallows. He noticed that Wonka was very carefully avoiding that area, probably because of the chocolate there.

"Okay, everyone, take a seat," Schnabel instructed, motioning to the log benches positioned around the fire. He glanced around at everyone once they were seated, noticing that Jack was apparently wearing one of Mort's old, too-small sweaters. It was bright red and had little white snowflakes stitched on. The doctor couldn't help but think that it was odd seeing him in something different than the usual white t-shirt and dark jeans he'd been wearing since he'd come there. It was also nice to see that the residents were sharing with each other.

Mort himself was wearing a tight, camouflage jacket that didn't seem to button up, so he was curled up close to Ichabod, of all people, who must've felt bad for him because he was allowing Mort into his personal space to keep warm. Seeing as Mort kept shivering, Ichabod told him he'd be right back with something to help. The doctor watched as Ichabod ran into the building, then came out a minute later, holding a warm looking greenish blue throw blanket. He came back towards the circle, and carefully wrapped it around Mort's shoulders before sitting back down. The doctor had to admit, that even though Ichabod was a bit odd, he was very caring, and forgiving, and he would probably make a good parent.

"Okay, everyone," The doctor said, once the group was settled, "Tonight we're going to do some skits."

There was a collective groan from the group, and the doctor could _feel_ all of them rolling their eyes.

"Now, now, it'll be fun!" The doctor said, excitedly, "We're going to have a good time. For our first skit, you're going to break up into smaller groups. Two in one group, three in another. Go ahead and do that."

Ichabod and Wonka immediately got together, and Edward and Jack paired up as well. That just left Mort.

Really, no one wanted Mort in their group, what with his violent outbursts and whatnot. It was just scary and also annoying. However, the writer seemed to be upset that no one had offered him a spot on their 'team'. He stayed in his spot, wrapped the blanket tighter around himself, and just stared sadly into the fire.

The doctor was about to step in and assign him to a group when Edward spoke up.

"Mort... you can be in our group," He said softly.

The writer's eyes seemed to light up for a second, and he smiled. "Thanks..." He answered, slowly getting up and moving over to be with Jack and Edward.

Edward smiled back, but said nothing.

"Very good," Schnabel said. "So, for our first skit, you're going to create, and act out a commercial about a product that a family with children would use. The commercial can be funny, or serious, or however you want it to be, but all members of your group must participate in some way. You have fifteen minutes to discuss your skit, and then you will act it out. Go ahead."

Both groups huddled together on opposite sides of the campfire.

"I think we should do a commercial for vitamins for babies," Mort suggested to his group. "You know, maybe so that parents don't have to worry as much about their health."

"That's a good idea!" Jack agreed.

"Uh…" Edward glanced between them. "Would that be a good idea? I don't think babies can swallow things like vitamins."

Jack frowned, "Yeah, that's true too."

"What about a leash to teach kids not to wander into the street?" Mort suggested.

Edward stared at him.

"...Are you sure you want to have kids, Mort?" He asked as politely as he could manage.

Mort just scowled at him. "Well, I thought it was a good idea. My parents used to put me on a leash when I was little, and I turned out just fine."

"Yeah, right." Jack snorted.

"What about a GPS device that can track children so if they get lost parents can find them?" Edward asked, "I'm sure a lot of people would use that. They can put the GPS chip in the kid's cell phone or watch or something."

"Isn't that kind of like spying?" Jack asked.

"Yes, but it could help parents with little kids, especially if someone kidnapped their children," Edward said, "The police would be able to track exactly where the child was. It would probably save lives."

"I suppose you're right," Mort agreed. "Okay, so, who's the kid, who's the parent, and who's the kid thief?"

Meanwhile, across the campfire, Ichabod and Wonka were discussing their own skit.

"What about some type of system that helps kids learn?" Ichabod asked.

"That would be good. But how?" came Wonka's response.

"Well, maybe whenever they touch something it can tell them what the object is, and ask them to repeat it. Then when they get older it can become more advanced. Like, if a child touches a light switch, a voice would say "light" so that the child understood what it was, and each time he or she touched it, they would hear it again and again. Then when they got a bit older, the voice would say 'turn the light on or off,' and so on."

"I suppose that would help reduce the overwhelming majority of idiots that our society seems to be raising," Wonka said. "Yeah, we can do that. Seems simple enough, too."

"Great. So, who's the kid, and who's the voice, then?"

Edward, Jack, and Mort's team was the first to show their skit. Edward was supposed to be the child, so he was sitting on the ground, snipping grass blades off, to pretend that he was playing. Jack was the dad, who was paying attention to other things, and Mort was going to sneak up and pull Edward away.

Just as Mort snuck up on Edward, the doctor heard what sounded like a car stopping, and footsteps approaching. The gate to the backyard opened, and in walked two men, both with long hair, one wearing a fedora. They came just in time to witness Mort putting Edward in a headlock and dragging him away towards the trees.

Jack, not having heard the gate open, began his act, worrying where his son had gone, before pulling out a cell phone and pretending to use the GPS on it.

"Aha! I've got you, you child-stealing uncle fucker!" He screamed, pulling Edward away from Mort, who ran, sorry, WADDLED off to the other side of the yard. "Don't worry, Eddie. That crazy writer won't ever bother you again."

"Ahem."

He stopped speaking when he suddenly noticed the two new men standing in the yard, staring at him.

The two men then glanced at each other.

"Gilbert?" The one with the hat said softly.

The other man turned to him. "Yes, Sam?"

The one with the hat looked at him with big, scared eyes. "What... Are you sure this is the right place?"


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Phish Tacko beta'd this. Go check out her page, she's an awesome author!**

**Chapter 8**

"Hello!" Schnabel approached them. "Welcome to St. Joseph's Shelter for Men." He reached to shake the redhead's hand. He didn't move, nor did the one in the hat.

"Did we, uh, interrupt something?" The redhead asked, watching as Edward, Mort, and Jack returned to their seats, everyone talking quietly amongst themselves.

"We were doing some skits as part of a group bonding exercise. By the way, I'm Leonard Schnabel. I'm the resident doctor and I run this facility. And you are…?"

"Gilbert, and this is Sam," Gilbert said, motioning at Sam, who merely squeaked in reply.

"Welcome. I assume that the two of you may have some…problems… that you'd like to get checked out?" Schnabel asked.

"Y-yes," Sam answered meekly.

The doctor nodded, "Right, then." He turned back to the group sitting around the fire. "Guys, you can forget the skits tonight, if you want. We have some new people who need my help. You may stay out here awhile longer if you want, but come back in by 10 pm for lights out, alright?"

A couple of people nodded, and the doctor turned his attention to his new visitors.

"Follow me inside, you two, and we'll get started while we have some time."

00

The first thing Gilbert noticed was that the shelter was kept very nicely. The first place they passed through seemed to be a common area, with a few couches and a large flat-screen television attached to the wall. The floor was carpeted and the walls were painted a calming shade of gray, and there were a few random, clichéd paintings scattered about. Pictures of flowers and kittens and mountains and such.

The doctor led them to another smaller room, the door to which had "Dr. Schnabel" written on a golden name plate.

"This is my office, gentlemen. Why don't you take a seat, and I'll give you some forms to fill out, then we can go over whatever medical problems you are experiencing."

"Okay," Both men said at the same time, taking seats next to each other.

The doctor handed them each a clipboard with several documents attached, and then gave them each a pen. "Please answer honestly," Dr. Schnabel, said, "All of your information is confidential, and if you're not honest, there may be a mistake in diagnoses."

Gilbert nodded, and set to work on the forms, while Sam just stared at them and bit his lip nervously, unsure of what to do in this situation. Usually someone helped him out with this type of stuff. He held the clipboard to his chest while he waited for Gilbert to finish. Dr. Schnabel noticed this, but said nothing.

When Gilbert was about halfway through with his paperwork, he glanced over at Sam, who was still looking rather nervous.

"I don't know what to do," Sam whispered to him.

"You have to tell the doctor, Sam. He'll help you," Gilbert whispered back.

Sam nodded, "Okay…"

Soon enough, Gilbert was finished and he handed the paperwork back to Dr. Schnabel. The doctor looked at Sam expectantly.

"I take it we need to discuss something in private?" He asked the young man.

Sam nodded slowly, "Y-yes, please."

"Alright. Why don't you come in first?"

Sam shakily stood up, worried about what the doctor might say. He wondered if the doctor would make fun of him – adults did that sometimes, called him an idiot or a moron or other hurtful names. Dually, he wondered if he was dying, or something terrible like that. If he was dying, then who would take care of Joon? Sam could feel his heart start to race as he began to panic.

The doctor led Sam into a comfortable looking room with an exam table in the middle and some chairs pushed against the wall.

"Take a seat, Sam," Schnabel said kindly.

Sam did as he was told, still holding the clipboard close to him.

"May I see that?" The doctor asked, once again using a nice tone of voice.

Slowly, Sam held out the clipboard to him.

The doctor took it and reviewed it, noticing that it was entirely blank.

"Did you have trouble with the questions?" He finally asked.

"I can't read," Sam answered, eyes fixed on his shoes.

"Ah, okay," Schnabel answered. "That's alright. Let's just find out what's going on, okay?"

Sam looked up at him, feeling slightly relieved that the doctor seemed to be accepting.

"Alright."

Dr. Schnabel took out a blank piece of paper. "What has been bothering you lately?"

"Well… I've been getting sick a lot. Throwing up. Especially in the mornings and after I eat. And sometimes in the afternoon, too. And a lot of times I feel kind of sad when I shouldn't or angry when I shouldn't."

The doctor marked all of this down. "Okay… Anything else?"

"I don't know. I think I've gained weight, because my clothes are tighter, but I don't know how that's possible because I throw up all the time."

"I see. Okay, Sam, let's take your vitals and then we'll do a more thorough exam."

It only took Dr. Schnabel a minute to take Sam's blood pressure, which was normal, and another minute to take his height and weight.

"You're 5'10 and 170 pounds. Does that weight seem normal to you?" The doctor asked, as Sam stepped down from the scale.

Sam shrugged, "I don't really know what I weigh usually."

"Okay. Get on the table for me?" The doctor asked.

Sam got up on the table, and looked at the doctor, expecting instructions on what to do next.

"Now lie down."

Sam lay down, staring at the ceiling. He squeaked as the doctor applied pressure to his abdomen.

"Does that hurt?" Dr. Schnabel asked.

"Sorta, yes," Sam answered.

The doctor nodded, "Is your stomach always sore like that?"

Sam shook his head, "For the past couple of months."

"Alright. We're going to do an ultrasound, now," The doctor informed him.

This set Sam off a little. "Why? Why do you need to do that?! Am I dying?" He asked, his face turning red as his heart started beating quickly again.

Dr. Schnabel took a deep breath, "Please, relax. I'm going to show you in a moment. I just want to confirm the diagnosis before we discuss it, alright?"

Sam sighed. "Alright."

Two minutes later, and Dr. Schnabel was successfully able to find the source of Sam's 'problems'.

"Sam, take a deep breath, please," The doctor instructed before showing the young man the sonogram photo. "What I'm going to show you will probably be… shocking."

Sam took a deep breath, and the doctor turned the monitor towards him.

"The reason for all of your symptoms is that you're pregnant. About two and a half months along, to be exact. Now, you may be wondering how it is…"

The doctor trailed off when he noticed that his patient wasn't listening. Rather, he was starting to cry.

"How?!" Sam asked. "How can this… Oh, what is Joon going to say?!" He sniffled, curling up on his side.

The doctor frowned. "Who is Joon?"

"She… She's my girlfriend." Sam sobbed. "She's going to be _so_ upset…"

Dr. Schnabel sighed, and offered Sam a tissue. He placed a comforting arm around Sam's shoulders.

"It's going to be okay, Sam," He said softly.

"No it's not! She's… going to think I'm a freak! This is unnatural!"

"Sam, it's not your fault. There was nothing you could do to control this if you didn't know you have the genetic predisposition for it, and considering your reaction, I'm assuming you didn't."

"She's going to leave me…" Sam sobbed again, totally ignoring Dr. Schnabel's words.

"Alright, Sam. Why don't you just stay here for a while, okay? Cry as much as you need to. I'm going to go see your friend now, and you just come on outside when you feel better."

Sam nodded and continued crying, holding the small pillow on the table as if his life depended on it.

Dr. Schnabel frowned as he left the room, shutting the door behind him.

'Poor kid,' he thought to himself.

00

Dr. Schnabel came back to the waiting area to find Gilbert pacing around.

"How's Sam?" was the first thing he asked.

"Sam is not feeling well right now. He'll be out when he's doing better," The doctor said, not wanting to go telling Gilbert that Sam was currently crying his eyes out.

Gilbert thought the doctor was referring to the constant nausea that Sam seemed to have. "Oh, okay."

The doctor led him into a second exam room, and closed the door behind him.

He reviewed Gilbert's chart, and performed an exam was very much like the one he gave to Sam, except that Gilbert seemed far less nervous than the other man. Like Sam, he also did an ultrasound on Gilbert, and confirmed that he was, in fact, 3 months pregnant.

Thankfully, Gilbert took the news much better than his new friend did. He looked the sonogram over for a few seconds, before speaking.

"Wow… That's interesting." Gilbert stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I've never seen anything like this. That's… fascinating."

"Interesting reaction." Schnabel reviewed his notes. "I think you're the first patient I've had that's been fascinated instead of upset because of their pregnancy."

"I'm not upset. A little confused, since I have no idea how this happened, but not upset." Gilbert looked down at his currently flat stomach.

"Would you like to know the baby's sex?"

"Eh…" The redhead thought for a moment. "Nah. Surprise me when it's born."

"Will do." Schnabel set his clipboard down. "Well, Gilbert, I think that's everything. Give me a moment to get organized and then I'll show you and Sam where you'll be staying, should you choose to stay."

"Thanks." Gilbert sat up and got off the table. "I'll go see how Sam's doing."

"Gilbert, I told you, he'll be out once he's feeling better." Schnabel looked up from the paperwork he was organizing.

"…Okay, can I go get some water, then?"

"Yeah, go ahead."

Gilbert stepped out of the exam room and looked to his left. "Which way?"

"Left."

"Got it." He turned and was about to go find a vending machine when he thought he could hear someone crying quietly.

"What the hell?" Gilbert glanced toward where the noise was coming from and noticed that he was standing near a doorway. "Sam?" He put his ear up to the door and listened.

The noise was definitely coming from behind the door.

"Sam?" Gilbert knocked on the door softly. "Is everything okay?" He heard a sniffling noise.

"Who's there?" Sam's voice was shaky.

"It's me. Gilbert. Mind if I come in?"

Sam merely sniffled in response.

"Sam?" Gilbert opened the door and slipped in. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing." Sam was sitting on the table, facing the wall. He was rocking back and forth and it looked like he was clutching a pillow to his stomach.

"Hey." Gilbert put a hand on his shoulder. "You sound like you've been crying. You can be honest."

Sam sniffled and turned toward him. His eyes were puffy and swollen and the rest of his face was red and blotchy. His cheeks were wet and his breathing was shaky.

"I'm pregnant…" That was all he could manage before he started to cry all over again.

"Hey… Come on." Gilbert helped Sam off the table and led him to a chair. "Try to calm down. It's gonna be okay."

"No it's not!" Sam put his head in his hands and let his hair fall around his face. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do! I can't tell Joon… I can't tell my boss… I'll lose my job…"

"You need to try and calm down." Gilbert bent down to Sam's eye level and pulled him into a hug. "You'll be all right. You'll be all right and I'll be all right."

"No I won't…" Sam rested his head on Gilbert's shoulder and continued to cry.

"Well… Sam… If it makes you feel better, my diagnosis is the same as yours."

"…What?" He sniffled and looked up at Gilbert.

"Uh-huh." Gilbert nodded. "Three months."

00

Seeing as they seemed to get along well, Dr. Schnabel gave Sam and Gilbert a room to share. Sam had calmed down a little but was still crying softly as the doctor showed them the room, and once Schnabel left, he collapsed onto one of the twin beds and buried his face in the pillow.

Gilbert sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed. He laid a hand on Sam's shoulder.

"Sam… you really need to calm down. I know you're upset, but crying like this isn't going to change anything."

Sam just sniffled and turned to face Gilbert.

"I'm scared," He said softly.

Gilbert frowned, "I know. It'll be okay, though. I promise."

Just then, both men heard what sounded like voices in the distance. Someone with a British accent was yelling, "THERE WAS ROOM FOR TWO, YOU WHORE!" while someone else sounded like they were crying.

"What the hell?" Gilbert asked himself again. "Uh, Sam, I'll be right back. I'm going to go see what's going on."

The redhead wandered around a bit before coming to the common area, where the other members of the shelter were perched on the couch, and some on the floor, eyes glued to the television.

"It's so tragic…." The one with the black hair said, wiping a tear away from his eye.

"Stupid bitch should've let him on," The one with the dreadlocks sobbed. "There was enough room. You all saw it. She just didn't want to give up her extra space!"

"I think the raft would've sank if Jack got on," The one with glasses and blonde hair added. "I don't think Rose wanted to kill him." Though the statement was logical, the blonde looked and sounded like he was crying too.

One guy with crazy hair was sitting on the couch, arms wrapped around his knees. He was biting his lip, and paying attention to the movie. And another guy, with straight brown hair and overly perfect skin was just staring at the scene, as if it hadn't affected him at all.

"Ew," The one with the straight hair muttered. "Love is icky."

"Uh… Hi, there?" Gilbert said, breaking everyone's focus.

The entire group turned to him.

"Hello," "Hi," "Who are you?" came all different replies.

"I'm Gilbert. My friend Sam and I will be staying here for a while…" He explained, looking everyone over. All of the men seemed to have somewhat large stomachs, so Gilbert guessed that they were all in the same predicament. "I guess we all have the same problem."

Everyone looked at each other, before the one with dreadlocks spoke up. "If you mean we're all pregnant, then yes. I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, by the way."

Gilbert nodded, and more people began to introduce themselves.

"I'm Willy," The one with straight brown hair said, "Willy Wonka."

"Ichabod Crane," The one with dark hair, who _still _seemed to be crying, said softly.

"I'm Mort. Mort Rainey. And the guy with the scissor hands is Edward," Mort said, ignoring the sad look on Edward's face.

Gilbert looked at Edward and gave him a sympathetic smile. "Hello."

"We're watching Titanic," Edward said, his voice just above a whisper. "It's almost over but you can join us if you like."

Gilbert shrugged. "I have to get back to Sam. He's not feeling well. Nice to meet you all, though. Sorry we interrupted your campfire in the backyard earlier."

Mort shrugged, Ichabod rolled his eyes, and no one said anything else in reply.

"Right. So I'll see you all later," Gilbert said, turning to walk away.

When Gilbert got back to his room, he found that Sam was shoeless, curled up in a ball, clutching a pillow again, and sleeping.

'Must've tired himself out crying,' Gilbert thought to himself. He went to the closet, found an extra blanket, and put it over Sam. Then Gilbert quietly lay down on his own bed, crossed his arms behind his head, and stared at the ceiling. He wondered about how things would play out in the following months. Hopefully, his sisters could continue to take care of Arnie. And Becky, well… She could come visit him, he supposed.

He ran a hand over his stomach. It was still flat, but it was hard, whereas he'd always remembered his abdomen being soft. He'd probably start showing soon. That would be fun. He wondered if he could pass it off for a beer gut in public. Even though he'd never had a beer in his life.

Gilbert's thoughts were broken as he heard Sam moan and turn over in his sleep. Tears were running down the young man's face, even as he slept. It was a sad sight. Gilbert wished he could do something he could do.

Well, maybe there was.

Gilbert stood up, and walked over to Sam's bed, and sat on the edge again. He gently rubbed Sam's arm to wake him up, causing him to stir slightly. He looked up at Gilbert with sleepy eyes.

"Just figured you needed a hug. You were crying in your sleep," was all Gilbert said.

Sam nodded and scooted over so that Gilbert could get further onto the bed.

"Come here," Gilbert whispered, opening his arms for Sam to give him a hug. Sam sniffled and embraced him. Having Gilbert there made him feel safe to an extent, and almost, in the back of his mind, as if everything really would be okay.

Gilbert said nothing, just held Sam and softly ran a hand through the young man's soft hair, trying to calm him down.

"Shh," He cooed. "Just relax. It's okay."

He'd done this with Arnie so many times that it was like second nature to him, and he didn't feel uncomfortable being that close in proximity to another man. He saw Sam sort of as a little brother, even though he himself was the younger of the two. The boy seemed as sweet and innocent as Arnie was, so he felt kind of obligated to comfort him as best he could.

Several minutes later, Sam was still crying, albeit very softly, though he seemed like he was getting tired. Gilbert, too, was getting sleepy, so he laid back on Sam's bed, and hugged Sam against him. Sam wrapped his arms around Gilbert's chest, clinging onto him as he'd held on to his pillow earlier. Gilbert continued to stroke Sam's hair, letting the boy cry as much as he needed.

Eventually, Sam began to calm, as he was starting to fall asleep. Gilbert fell asleep shortly after.

It was a hot ray of sunlight that woke Sam up the next day. He was slightly confused as to why he was curled up next to Gilbert, but once he was fully awake, he remembered Gilbert coming over to help him calm down.

He sighed to himself, feeling somewhat embarrassed that he'd bothered his friend so much.

Sam was lost in his thoughts for a mere moment before the morning sickness hit, like it tended to every morning. And afternoon. And evening. He placed a hand over his mouth and tried to get out of bed as gently as possible, since Gilbert was still sleeping, but he felt too sick to move slowly. Sam ended up tripping over Gilbert as he got out of bed and made a run for the bathroom.

Just as he'd finished his fourth round of vomiting, he heard the bathroom door open a crack.

"You okay?" came Gilbert's voice.

Sam shook his head and was sick again.

Gilbert once again held his friend's hair back. He felt lucky that his morning sickness had never been this bad.

After Sam was sick for another few minutes, Gilbert decided it was time to ask the doctor for something to help him. Vomiting this much couldn't be good for anyone.

"Sam," He said, patting Sam's back, "I'm going to see if the doctor can help you, okay?"

Sam nodded slightly, and then dry heaved. "It hurts…"

"I know, I know," Gilbert replied. "I'll be right back, I promise."

With that, Gilbert made his way out of the room and down the hallway. He quickly found Dr. Schnabel; he was eating breakfast with the rest of the group.

"Good morning, Gilbert!" Schnabel greeted warmly.

"Uh, hi." Gilbert said, nodding his greetings at the group. "Doc, Sam's really sick, can you come take a look at him? I think there's something really wrong."

The doctor put down his fork, and nodded. "Sure. Everyone, I'll be back in a little while."

The group acknowledged the doctor's statement, and he followed Gilbert back to his room.

Walking in, neither the doctor nor Gilbert heard any noise, which frightened Gilbert a little. Sam had been vomiting pretty loudly before.

"He was in the bathroom," Gilbert said, opening the bathroom door for the doctor.

The doctor sighed as he looked inside. Sam was curled up on the floor, half conscious.

"Ah, shit." Gilbert muttered. "I told you he's not okay."

The doctor walked in, checked Sam's pulse, and shook him gently. "Wake up, son." The doctor said. "You need to get up."

Eventually Sam opened his eyes, and groaned again. "What…?" He asked groggily.

The doctor put a hand up to Sam's head and checked for a fever. The boy actually felt rather cool to the touch.

"I think it's just a combination of anxiety and dehydration. I'm going to give you an IV of saline. Gilbert, help me get Sam to the bed please?"

Gilbert nodded, hooked his hands under Sam's armpits, and lifted him up. Together, he and Dr. Schnabel managed to get Sam lying down in what looked like a comfortable position.

"Good. Okay, Gilbert, I need to you go get a bucket in case Sam is sick again. I'm going to go get an IV."

"Alright," Gilbert said. He and the doctor split off into different directions to get their different items.

Soon enough Sam was hooked up to an IV and seemed to be resting comfortably.

"Do you feel sick at all?" The doctor asked, brushing some hair out of Sam's eyes.

Sam shook his head. "Not anymore."

"That's good. Okay, Sam, you need to rest today. You can try to eat some light food later, if you're feeling better. Crackers, toast, stuff like that. But for this morning, we're just going to do saline and a nutrient drip, okay?"

Sam nodded. He didn't like the prospect of being bedridden for so long, but it didn't seem like he had much of a choice. Maybe someone would stay with him to ease the boredom. Otherwise, it was going to be a really long day.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Phish Tacko beta'd this. Go check out her page, she's an awesome author!**

**Chapter 9**

Around 10 AM, Sam was occupying his time by staring out the window and watching the leaves fall off the trees. He figured he was right; it was going to be a boring day. Gilbert had gone off about an hour earlier in search of food and something to do, so Sam was alone. He considered calling Joon and his boss – he knew that he'd have to do both soon, but he decided to put it off, pushing it out of his mind. Joon would probably be busy now, anyway, and all his boss would do is fire him, and he didn't feel like dealing with that yet.

He sighed. He didn't feel quite as upset anymore, but he still wished he had someone to talk to.

Just then, he heard the door open. One of the other residents was standing there.

"Hello," The man said meekly.

"Hi…" Sam greeted.

"My name's Ichabod. We heard you're stuck in here all day," He said, motioning at another person- one who had scissors for hands.

"…And we figured we'd keep you company," Ichabod continued.

"Oh, thank you," Sam replied, trying to pry his gaze from the pale man's hands. "I'm Sam, by the way."

Ichabod smiled at him, "Dr. Schnabel has an old TV. It's not much, but it's on a cart and it has a VCR, so we were going to bring that in if you wanted."

Sam smiled back. "Oh, that would be great! Maybe we can watch a movie? I love movies."

Ichabod nodded.

"Sure. Edward, let's go get the television."

"Yes," The other man agreed. He looked at Sam. "It's nice to meet you," He added.

"You too."

Sam laid back again, exhausted from merely having a short conversation. Being so sick had taken a lot out of him. And he still had to call Joon and his boss! He didn't even want to think about that now.

Ichabod came back a minute later, pushing a wooden cart with a TV on it into the room. He searched for an outlet and plugged it in. Meanwhile, Edward looked for a place to sit. He was eyeing a chair on the side of the room, but didn't make a move for it. Ichabod seemed to notice this, and once he'd plugged the television in, pulled the chair out for Edward.

"There you go," He said.

"Thank you," Edward answered. He sat down, and gazed down at his "hands". Sam was about to ask what had happened to Edward to make him the way he was when Ichabod spoke up again.

"We have a decent selection movies to choose from. Star Wars, Friday the 13th, Grown Ups..."

"I haven't seen Grown Ups," Sam answered.

Ichabod nodded. "Grown Ups it is than. Is that okay with you, Edward?"

Edward nodded and sat back, unconsciously resting a hand on his bulging stomach.

As Ichabod struggled to get the VCR working, Sam looked Edward up and down.

"Are you... pregnant too?" He asked, staring at Edward's large stomach.

"Yes," Edward replied, rubbing his stomach a little.

"How far along?"

"Almost four months. I'm having twins," Edward said, smiling a little as he mentioned it.

"I'm pregnant too," Sam said, so softly Edward could barely hear him.

"Everyone here is," was all Edward said.

Ichabod interrupted the somewhat awkward conversation, "The, uh, movie's ready."

Edward and Sam turned their attention to the television, and Ichabod turned the lights off. He sat near Edward.

Within a few minutes, everyone was laughing hysterically, and for the first time in the short while since he'd found out, Sam wasn't freaking out about his pregnancy. He was amused by the movie, and also by Edward. Edward didn't seem to laugh very loudly like most people did. Rather, he quietly giggled to himself when something funny happened. It was kind of adorable, in an odd way.

Ichabod was kind of funny, too, just because of how squeamish he was of certain things, like the characters playing Arrow Roulette in the woods. The constable had turned his face away from the television and acted as if he'd just seen someone defile one of his relatives instead of a comedic moment.

"You're really sensitive, aren't you?" Sam asked Ichabod a little later.

Ichabod looked slightly offended, but seemed to brush it off. "I just prefer more intelligent humor than watching five grown-ass men play something stupid and dangerous like Arrow Roulette."

Sam cracked a smile. "It's just supposed to be funny."

"It wasn't."

"Well, what kind of movies do you like, then?" Sam asked, very interested in whatever Ichabod's answer would be. He was sure that whatever movies Ichabod liked, he'd probably have watched at some point too.

"I'm not really into movies, per se, but I am a big fan of a certain television show," Ichabod answered.

"And what television show is that?"

"Big Bang Theory."

Sam raised an eyebrow, "Never heard of that, actually."

Both Ichabod and Edward's mouth's dropped in surprise. "Well, my friend," Ichabod said, getting up to change the channels. "We have a lot to show you."

00

While Ichabod, Edward, and Sam were enjoying a Big Bang Theory marathon, Mort was wandering in the backyard, trying to clear his head. He felt rather moody today, and was hoping that some fresh air might clear his head.

He was walking along a path towards a small patch of dandelions when he heard a tiny mewling sound.

"Huh?" He paused, listening for the sound again.

Sure enough, there was another 'meow', but this time it sounded slightly more desperate.

"Here, kitty kitty!" Mort called, trying to locate the cat that was crying out. It sounded like perhaps the animal was in pain.

For ten whole minutes, Mort walked the premises. By the time he'd narrowed his search, he was out of breath, lightheaded, and about ready to kick himself for being slim but so out of shape. In fact, he probably would've done something like that, had it not required so much energy.

"Stupid... kid..." He huffed, coming to the corner of the shelter. The meows were getting much louder now, and he looked down to see a small, gray tabby kitten with its back paw tangled in the wire from the air conditioning unit.

"How'd ya do that, little buddy?" He asked, helping the cat remove its foot. Surprisingly, the animal didn't fight him. If anything, it seemed to like him. As soon as it was free, the little cat shook itself off, then immediately rubbed up against Mort's leg, purring. Mort smiled and stroked the kitten's tiny head. He noticed that it had a white spot on its forehead- the only non-gray part on its body- that looked like a little heart. The kitten purred even louder when he petted it, so Mort took a chance and picked it up.

"Where's your momma?" He asked as the kitten nuzzled him. He smirked. This cat had to be the cutest thing ever. It couldn't have been more than a month old.

"I guess you're all alone," He said, hugging the cat close to his chest. "Well, not anymore. You're going to come live with me."

00

An hour later, Wonka entered the common area to see Mort sitting on the couch, his feet propped up on the coffee table, and what looked like a kitten sitting on his belly.

"What is that?!" Wonka yelled as soon as he saw it. He didn't particularly like animals, nor did they particularly seem to like him.

Mort wrapped a protective hand around the kitten, who was currently standing with its ears back and its tail puffed out. It was staring at Wonka, ready to pounce.

"It's a kitty!" Mort said, patting the cat on the head. "I found him outside."

Wonka visibly cringed. "That's _really_ unsanitary."

"Aww, come on. He's so cute! Come pet him."

Wonka cringed again, but took a step forward. As soon as he was within an arm's length, the kitten hissed at him. Wonka jumped back about ten feet.

"It doesn't like me." Wonka said once he'd recovered.

"You don't like him either. He can pick up on it. Cats and dogs are smart like that, ya know. They're like kids, sharks, and women. They can smell your fear."

Wonka shut his eyes and swallowed before speaking. "Do you think Schnabel will let you keep that... that _thing _here?"

Mort shrugged. "He's staying, whether Schnabel likes it or not. Aren't ya, buddy?" Mort cooed, scratching the kitten behind its ears. The cat purred loudly.

Wonka shook his head. "Just keep it away from me. I don't want to catch fleas or rabies or whatever that little mongrel has."

Mort rolled his eyes, "For someone who supposedly brings joy to people around the world, you're a really frustrating person to deal with. Let's make a deal, you leave my cat alone if you see him, and I keep the cat away from you as best I can. Fair?"

"Fair." Wonka agreed grudgingly. A minute later he left the room, occasionally looking back to glare at the kitten as he walked out.

00

Sam, Ichabod, and Edward were four episodes into their marathon when the door opened and Gilbert walked in. He was carrying a box of Saltines and a glass of water, which he placed next to Sam's bed.

Sam turned his eyes from the television towards Gilbert. "Hey," He said softly.

Ichabod paused the DVD.

"I didn't want to interrupt your movie day, but I was wondering if you've called Joon or your boss yet. And I brought you some crackers. Figured you might be able to keep those down."

Sam shook his head sadly.

"No... Gilbert, I'm scared to call them." Tears started forming in his eyes again, and Ichabod and Edward took that as their cue to leave for a bit.

Gilbert rested a hand on Sam's shoulder as soon as they were alone in the room.

"I know, but you have to let them know where you are. They're all probably very worried, especially Joon."

"I know." Sam sniffed. "I'm just scared. Can... Can you call Joon for me? And maybe the doctor can call my boss?"

Gilbert thought this over for a moment. He felt it would really be best if Sam called Joon, but the pleading look that Sam was giving him made him change his mind and agree to it.

"Okay… alright, I'll call her."

"Thank you," Sam said.

"But if she wants to talk to you, you have to talk."

Sam frowned, "Okay… I guess that's fair."

"It is fair. What's her phone number?" Gilbert asked, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket.

Sam told him the number, as he'd memorized it. Gilbert dialed it in. It was only two rings before a woman picked up.

"Hello?" she asked.

"Um, hi. This is Gilbert. Sam's friend."

"Oh! Do you know where Sam is? I've been worried…"

"He's fine. He's with me. We're at St. Joseph's Shelter. He… um, actually, we, have some news."

"Why is he there? Isn't that the shelter for pregnant men?"

"It is."

"So why is he there?"

"Well… you see… there's no real delicate way to put this, so I'll just be honest. We're both pregnant."

There was a silence on the other end of the line.

"Hello?" Gilbert asked, unsure if Joon had hung up.

"Hi."

"So… yeah."

"Is it… whose is it?" Joon asked.

"I'd assume it was yours."

There was another silence.

"Are you okay?"

Joon sighed, "I'm fine. One last question."

"Yes?"

"Why didn't Sam call me himself?"

"He was afraid you'd be upset and asked me to call you."

"Oh. Tell him he's silly."

"Will do."

"And tell him to call me later."

"Sure."

"Bye, Gilbert," Joon said.

"Bye Joon."

Gilbert turned to Sam, who was staring at him, eyes huge.

"What'd she say?"

"That you're silly for thinking that she would be upset with you, and that she wants you to call her later."

"That's it?"

"Basically. She seemed okay with it."

"Wow."

"Yep. Now, let's go get Dr. Schnabel to call your boss."

00

Sam was feeling much better by that evening. Dr. Schnabel had called his boss a few hours prior, and the man had been very understanding, as his own son had the mpreg gene. He'd gone so far to promise to have a job for Sam after he had the baby. Sam figured he must have had the best luck in the world. Now, it felt like a huge weight was lifted off of hisshoulders. He even felt physically well enough to come down to dinner with everyone else.

There was some roast chicken and vegetables, and Sam thought he might be able to keep some of it down. He needed to live off of more than liquid nutrients and crackers.

Edward, Ichabod, Wonka, Jack and Gilbert were already there. Sam took a seat next to Gilbert.

The group had started a conversation about American baby names, and how they seemed to be getting weirder and weirder – "I mean, really, who names their kid Zebulon?" - when Mort appeared. He had the gray kitten on his shoulder.

Mort took a seat at the table, put some chicken on his plate, filled a glass with water, and calmly placed the kitten next to all of it. The cat looked around at everyone before digging into the chicken.

"Uh, nice cat you have there, Mort." Gilbert said, watching as the cat inhaled the meat in front of it. Poor little thing must've been starving.

Wonka sighed and shook his head. He was about to admonish Mort for letting the cat on the table when Edward spoke up. "What's its name?"

Mort shrugged.

"I don't know. Haven't come up with one yet." He gave the cat some more chicken.

Just then, the doctor cleared his throat.

"Mort, this is a pet-free facility."

Wonka crossed his arms over his chest. "Yeah, Mort. No pets allowed."

Mort glared at both the doctor and the chocolatier. "You mean to tell me you're going to make me put this sweet, adorable, _completely helpless_ little kitten out on the street? Look at him!"

The kitten stopped eating and looked up at the doctor, giving him the biggest, cutest kitten eyes ever. Dr. Schnabel couldn't help but smile. "Well... he _is _kind of cute, at that..."

"The thing's probably got a disease!" Wonka protested.

The cat looked at him, and hissed again. It caused Wonka to back up from the table a little bit.

"The cat doesn't like Willy," Mort said, in case anyone didn't understand.

"Obviously," Ichabod replied. He put his hand out near the kitten and let it sniff him. Within a minute, the cat was licking his fingers. The constable laughed.

"Aww, that's adorable. I think you should let Mort keep him, Dr. Schnabel." He looked at the doctor.

Dr. Schnabel sighed.

"Yeah, alright, just make sure to brush him and feed him and try to keep him out of the way. And get him a collar, too. He's your responsibility, you hear?"

"Sure." Mort couldn't help but smirk slightly as he saw Wonka scowling out of the corner of his eye.

Mort fed the kitten a little longer, and let the others take turns petting him.

Eventually, the kitten hopped up on the table again, and made his way over to Sam. The cat looked at Sam, and Sam looked at the cat, and it seemed like they came to some type of weird, psychic mutual understanding.

"I think you should call him Buster," Sam said, smiling at the kitten. The cat meowed and butted his snout against Sam's nose, apparently in agreement.

Mort's eyes widened. "Uh. Okay. Can you, uh... you can't talk to it, can you? I mean… That whole thing you just did… That was just weird."

"No." Sam replied, totally straight faced. The cat jumped down and sat on his lap, and he petted him, smiling. "It's just a good name."

"Right. Buster it is, then."

That second, Wonka happened to look over at the kitten again, and before Sam could stop it, the cat got back up on the table, got up in Wonka's face, and growled at him.

"Yep," Jack said, speaking up for the first time. "That cat definitely hates you."


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Phish Tacko beta'd this. Go check out her page, she's an awesome author!**

**Chapter 10**

A few days later, it was announced by Dr. Schnabel that there would be a small holiday party for the residents, and that they could invite their friends and family. It would be an opportunity for the residents' loved ones to see where they were living and how they were doing.

Gilbert had invited Arnie and Becky and his mother, though his mother couldn't make it on account of it being hard for her to travel. Sam invited Joon, and Benny agreed to drive her over. Wonka, Mort and Jack hadn't invited anyone since they didn't really have any close relationships, and Ichabod invited Katrina, but she'd hung up on him as soon as she'd heard his voice. In her mind, he was a disgusting freak of nature and she wanted nothing to do with something like that.

To say that Ichabod was okay with that would be a lie. He was devastated by Katrina's rejection. She'd made her feelings known when she'd first found out about his predicament, and that was why he was at the shelter to begin with, but he kept hoping she'd have a change of heart.

The night before the party, everyone was helping decorate, with the exception of Ichabod, who was sitting on the couch and staring down at his hands.

"You need to get over this." Mort said as he placed a little Santa hat on Buster's ears. The cat gave him a confused look, as if to say, '_Why are you doing this, human?!_' but didn't shake the hat off, much to Mort's surprise.

Ichabod sighed. "You don't understand. I love her!"

"And she doesn't love you. Not anymore. So you have to get over it."

Ichabod knew that Mort was right. It would do no good sitting around and hoping that Katrina would suddenly want him again. Still, it hurt very deeply. Being pregnant and having mood swings didn't help either. Ichabod bit his lower lip, trying to keep from crying.

Sam finished putting an ornament on the tree, and then took a seat next to Ichabod, resting a hand on the constable's shoulder.

"Don't let this ruin your holiday." Sam said, handing Ichabod a star-shaped ornament.

Ichabod frowned and fiddled with the ornament for a minute. "I suppose you're right."

Sam smiled. "I know I am. Tomorrow will be fun. Even if Katrina doesn't come, we'll all still have a good time."

"Hopefully," Ichabod said, standing up. He walked over to the giant Christmas tree and placed the ornament on a branch near the top. Just as he was reaching up to adjust it, he felt something stir inside him. It felt like his baby just kicked for the first time.

Ichabod topped in his tracks and rested a hand on his stomach. As soon as he touched it, the baby kicked again. He grinned.

Gilbert noticed him smiling. "Did you feel it kick?" He asked.

Ichabod nodded. "Yes… it's still kicking… strong little thing."

"It's telling you to be happy and enjoy Christmas." Sam said, picking out another ornament. It was red, and shaped like a cardinal. He handed it to Ichabod, knowing that the man had a fondness for that type of bird.

Ichabod smiled again as he took the ornament from Sam. Maybe everything wouldn't be so bad after all.

00

The holiday party started at 3 PM the next day. Wonka, Gilbert, and Edward helped Dr. Schnabel prepare food (Edward was particularly good at cutting things, as everyone knew), while Ichabod, Mort, Jack and Sam walked around the common room and surrounding areas, cleaning and making sure everything was in place.

It was all decorated very festively. Jack had hung some multi-colored Christmas lights on the wall, there were candles and even some mistletoe in the doorway, not to mention the giant tree in back of the room. Dr. Schnabel had also hung some stockings on the wall, one for each of the residents.

Becky and Arnie were the first to arrive, followed by Benny and Joon a few minutes later. All of them placed gifts under the tree for their loved ones, and some trinkets for everyone else too.

Buster the cat wandered around, 'greeting' everyone by rubbing against them. He still had his little Santa had on, and at some point Jack had placed a collar that had jingle bells on it around his neck. It was decided that Buster was probably the most easy-going cat ever, because he didn't seem particularly bothered by any of it.

A bit after the party started, Joon was busy petting Buster, when she heard someone whisper.

"Hey, Joon!" The voice called out.

She looked around. "Hm?"

"Come here!"

Joon turned to see Sam, standing under the mistletoe and grinning. She stood up and walked towards him. When she got to him, she glanced up. "Mistletoe?" She smiled at him.

Sam smiled again, took Joon into his arms, and planted a quick kiss on her lips.

"Happy Early Christmas," Sam whispered, hugging Joon tightly.

"Happy Early Christmas, both of you," Joon replied. She rested a hand on Sam's stomach and gave him another kiss.

00

Dinner was a happy affair. Everyone was laughing and joking around. Even Ichabod seemed to be having a good time.

At some point, Buster jumped up on the table and went around taking bites of everyone's food, before eventually walking towards Wonka and once again hissing at him.

"Ugh," Wonka sighed, clenching his fists. "Will not ruin party by killing the cat... Will not ruin party by killing the cat..." He repeated to himself. Everyone thought it was kind of funny, except for Willy, who was really aggravated.

After dinner, everyone settled into the common room to watch "It's a Wonderful Life". Sam and Joon were cuddled up next to each other, while Gilbert, Becky, and Arnie took up another couch. Everyone else was scattered on the floor or on chairs.

"I don't know why, but this kind of reminds me of when I was baptized." Sam spoke up suddenly. Joon looked at him curiously.

"You've never told me this story." She turned to him.

"Okay…" Sam chuckled. "Well, this was back a few years ago. I think I was around 16 and I was still living in Florida with my parents and my sisters. Church had just gotten out and we were all going down to the river because Reverend Penderghast was going to baptize me. Well, one thing they forgot to mention was that the spot on the riverfront where everybody was going to gather was right behind a bar." He paused and looked around. Becky and Gilbert were grinning.

"Wow…" Joon was shaking her head, smiling.

"I'm surprised they didn't kick us out." Sam started to laugh at the memory. "Oh, man, Reverend Penderghast had no idea what was going on. But it went well. I didn't die. We didn't get attacked by drunk people."

"Wow…" Gilbert started to laugh. "Where was this? Miami? Orlando?"

"Nope. Jacksonville." Sam grinned. "Crazy place."

Once everybody simmered down, they watched a rerun of A Christmas Story. The movie had just started, when there was a loud groan from across the room. Everyone turned to look at Edward, who was squirming around, looking like he was in pain.

"Are you okay?" Gilbert asked, getting off the sofa and kneeling down next to the younger man.

Edward groaned and shook his head 'no'.

"What's wrong? What hurts? Someone get Dr. Schnabel," Gilbert said. Ichabod got up and went to get the doctor, while Gilbert continued to sit with Edward.

"My stomach..." Edward whispered, cringing in pain again.

"Okay, just, stay calm," Gilbert instructed.

Right then, Dr. Schnabel came into the room.

"Everyone, go find somewhere else to be," He said, immediately going over to Edward's other side.

Everyone except Gilbert got up and awkwardly wandered off, both wanting to give Edward privacy and learn what was going on.

Edward had wrapped his arms around himself, trying to make the pain stop. The doctor pushed Edward's arms away. "I need to check on you," he said.

Edward nodded, trying to cope with the hurt he was feeling.

Gilbert frowned as the doctor poked and prodded his housemate. Edward looked extremely uncomfortable but seemed to be trying his best to let the doctor look him over. Pitying him, Gilbert pushed Edward's hair – which was drenched in sweat, at that point– back from his pale face. Edward glanced at him, a terrified look in his eyes.

"Hey, it's gonna be okay," Gilbert said, trying to maintain eye contact with Edward, "Just look at me. The doctor will be done soon and you'll be alright."

Edward nodded very slightly, and kept his eyes on Gilbert. Then Dr. Schnabel spoke up.

"What does it feel like?" he finally asked.

"Tight...like my stomach is tight," Edward answered. He was still sweating and if he'd had hands, Gilbert bet that he would've been gripping onto something.

"How long have you been feeling this?"

"On and off... for about an hour," Edward replied, biting his lip. This really hurt.

"Alright. Sorry to ask you to help me again, Gilbert, but since you're here, can you help me help Edward lay down on the sofa?"

"Yeah, sure," Gilbert answered. "What's wrong with him?"

The doctor sighed, "I think it's just false contractions. It happens sometimes in the second and third trimester. Since Edward is having twins it's harder on his body, so he's more likely to experience issues than most of the people here," he explained. "He'll feel better if he's lying down. Sitting on the floor isn't helping."

"Okay," Gilbert said. He looked at Edward again, "You heard that? We're just going to help you lay down, alright?"

"Okay..."

Together, Gilbert and Dr. Schnabel were able to get Edward up onto the sofa. Gilbert got a pillow and placed it behind Edward's head.

"Are you feeling any better?" Dr. Schnabel asked, after about a minute.

"A little," Edward said. He did look better, but not a hundred percent. Almost instinctively, he moved his arms as if he wanted to place a hand on his stomach, but he drew back immediately when he realized what he was doing. It wouldn't help to accidentally disembowel himself.

Now it was Gilbert's turn to sigh. He perched on the edge of the sofa next to the young man, and laid a hand flat on Edward's stomach. He rubbed small circles on it, hoping to comfort him. He was getting used to comforting people by now, anyway, what with Sam's emotional outburst.

Edward let out a deep breath, and closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of something he could never do for himself. It was a simple gesture, but it helped.

Gilbert and the doctor stayed there for a few more minutes, until it became apparent that Edward was very tired.

"I'm going to show everyone out," The doctor said quietly as Edward closed his eyes.

"He'll be okay, right?" Gilbert whispered as the doctor stood up.

"Yes. But I'm afraid this means that all of you are going to get exams. Don't want this type of thing happening again, now do we?"


	11. Chapter 11

******A/N: Phish Tacko beta'd this. Go check out her page, she's an awesome author!**

**Chapter 11**

Dr. Schnabel brought in Edward first for an exam, since he'd had the false contractions the night before. Now in his fifth month of pregnancy, carrying twins, the once tiny man had a fairly large stomach. The rest of him was still very skinny, so he looked a bit awkward, but he supposed that was to be expected. Edward was used to looking awkward anyway.

"Aside from the false contractions, everything seems to be okay," The doctor said, showing Edward a sonogram of his twins. They were bigger now and he could clearly see their little hands. The female twin looked to be sucking her thumb. "You need to avoid stress and overworking yourself in anyway. The party was probably too much. Too many people, and we shouldn't have asked you to help get ready for it. Just relax. I know you internalize a lot, but that's not good. It'll just cause problems."

Edward nodded, but said nothing. The doctor's statements made him feel pretty useless, but he felt it wasn't worth discussing. He was generally pretty useless, anyway, what with the scissors and all…

Dr. Schnabel spoke again, breaking Edward's train of mental self-loathing. "And you can always come to me to talk, you know, if you're upset or worried about anything. Or talk to one of the other residents here. Gilbert is very nice. He will listen, I'm sure. Sam and Ichabod probably would too."

"Okay," came Edward's reply.

As Edward got up off the table, the doctor helped him get his shirt back on. It was a task he'd never quite been good at. Being pregnant and having only somewhat ill-fitting clothes to wear didn't make it much easier.

"Remember, let me know if there are any more problems," Schnabel said, opening the door to let Edward out of the room.

"Alright," Edward answered. "I will."

Wonka was next. He was closer to six months along by then, so Dr. Schnabel was starting to counsel him on preparing for the birth of his daughter.

He was surprised when Wonka came in, scowling and holding his left forearm with his right hand.

"Are you okay?" The doctor asked, eyeing the chocolatier suspiciously.

"Fine. Just peachy." Wonka said, through gritted teeth.

"Why are you holding your arm like that?"

Wonka glanced around the room, as if he were looking for some type of escape, but eventually stopped and sighed. He removed his hand to show three long cuts going across his forearm. They were red and looked like they had been bleeding.

"What.. what happened?!" Dr. Schnabel asked, grabbing a bottle of peroxide and some bandages. "You.. you didn't do this to yourself, did you?"

Wonka rolled his eyes, "Give me more credit than that, doctor. The damn cat got me."

"Oh. Buster," The doctor confirmed, and Wonka nodded in agreement. "That cat sure hates you."

"Everyone keeps saying that," Wonka replied. "As if they think that I don't realize it. Considering the fact that the little bastard ripped my skin off this morning, I CAN TELL THAT HE FUCKING HATES ME."

Wonka had shouted the last part, and immediately put a hand over his mouth afterward.

Schnabel just sat there, mouth hanging open. He'd never heard Willy curse before.

"I'm sorry," Wonka said, a second later, instantly falling back into the habit of repressing all of his rage at everything. "I don't know where that came from. Silly mood swings, I guess." He forced a laugh.

Dr. Schnabel just stared at him. "Okay. May I clean the wound?" He asked.

"Yeah, okay." Wonka held out his arm. He hissed as the doctor applied the disinfectant.

After that, it was quiet while Dr. Schnabel patched Wonka up.

Finally, the doctor spoke. "So you're about six months now," he said.

"Mm-hm."

"So in three months you'll have a little baby daughter to take care of. Have you made any plans, as far as living arrangements go?"

Willy shrugged, "I was going to take her back to my factory with me. Charlie's there, he'll help, and she can be like his little sister."

Dr. Schnabel nodded, "And you have a place for her to stay, there? Are you going to teach her to make candy like you do?"

"She will stay with me in my quarters and then she will have her own room when she's old enough. And of course I'm going to teach her to make candy! But… If she wants to do something else with her life, I suppose that's fine too," Wonka added, a sad look flitting across his face.

Dr. Schnabel smiled at him, "You'll be a good dad, Willy," He said. "I'm sure of it."

Sam was next. Gilbert had kindly accompanied him to the exam room and waited outside.

The doctor smiled at Sam when he saw him.

"How are you doing today?" Schnabel asked.

"I'm okay. Gilbert's outside," Sam responded.

"He's a good friend to you. You're feeling okay, though? I know you were getting sick a lot previously."

"It hasn't been as bad the past few days, actually."

"Great, that's good to hear. Let's begin the exam than."

"Okay."

The doctor took out Sam's chart and reviewed it. "According to my notes, you're three and a half months along. This means you'll probably have your baby sometime in late May or so."

Sam smiled a little. "Okay. Me and Joon will raise it together."

Dr. Schnabel couldn't help but grin. Sam and Joon seemed like the perfect couple.

"That's nice, Sam."

"I think… I think I'm gonna ask her to marry me." Sam added. "Maybe before I have the baby. So it's not… you know…"

"Born out of wedlock, you mean?"

"…Yeah. I mean, we'd love it just the same and all.. but… it just seems right to get married."

"Seems like a nice idea." The doctor agreed.

"I really love her," Sam continued. "She's like… the nicest, best person in the world. She'll be a great mom. And I'll try to be a good dad, you know. I'm learning how to read for the baby. Gilbert's teaching me."

"That's wonderful!" Dr. Schnabel replied. "Then you can read your baby stories each night. That's a very nice gesture, Sam."

"I hope so. I hope I can learn in time. I want to be able to read my Bible soon."

Dr. Schnabel put a hand on Sam's shoulder. "I'm sure if you put your mind to it, you'll be able to do it."

"Yeah…"

"I have faith in you, Sam."

Sam beamed upon hearing this. "Thank you."

"So… let's see how the baby's doing then, yeah?"

"Yeah."

With that, Sam laid back and let the doctor start his checkup.

Gilbert went in right after Sam was finished. He was curious about how he and the baby were doing, so he didn't mind going for a checkup. He'd noticed a few days ago that he was finally starting to show, too. He'd woken up one day and his normally flat stomach had been slightly curved. It seemed a bit weird, but it didn't really bother him too much. For now he could still cover up with a baggy tee shirt, at least.

"Gilbert," The doctor said as the redhead entered the office. "How are you? Any problems to speak of?"

"I have to pee a lot but otherwise I'm doing fine. Here for an exam." Gilbert hopped up on the exam table.

"Fair enough." Dr. Schnabel pulled Gilbert's chart off the shelf. "Well, as of today, you're two days from being four months pregnant. You can expect your baby in early to mid-May. I'd say around the 8th or 10th , but it can vary. Sometimes they like to stay in, sometimes they like to come a bit early," The doctor said, smirking.

"Sounds about right," Gilbert replied.

"Alright. Let's begin, then."

The doctor took Gilbert's vitals, as per usual with an exam. Gilbert had only gained about three pounds since the last month and his blood pressure was stable, but overall he was in good health. The doctor had also been able to figure out the sex of the baby when he did the ultrasound.

"Are you sure you don't want to know if it's a boy or a girl?" He'd asked, staring at the screen.

"Nah. It'll be a good surprise."

"Okay. The baby's fine. Everything looks good. We'll do another exam in a month, but if you have any problems in the meantime, feel free to come get me."

"Will do. Thanks, Doc," Gilbert said, sitting up and pulling his shirt down.

"Not a problem."

As Gilbert left the room, the doctor noted that his exam had probably been the easiest he'd given all day.

Ichabod came in right after Gilbert had left, punctual as always.

"Good afternoon," The doctor greeted him as he pulled the constable's file out.

"Likewise," Ichabod said, taking a seat on a chair on the opposite side of the room. "Is that my file?"

"Yes. Looks like last month I told you to gain eight pounds because you were underweight… let's see how that's going first, okay?"

Ichabod cringed, as he disliked being told what to do with his body. He knew he had to try to follow the doctor's orders for the baby, though.

"Fine," He muttered, walking over to the scale.

The doctor silently moved the numbers around, before taking down some notes. "Looks like you've gained about 9.5 pounds. Good job." He moved the numbers back, as Ichabod stepped down.

"Not like it was particularly hard to do," The dark haired man mumbled.

"Hm?" Dr. Schnabel asked. "I didn't hear you."

"Never mind," Ichabod answered. "Let's just get this over with."

"Sure. Blood pressure next, then we'll do an ultrasound. Any problems, by the way? Or anything you want to discuss?"

"Well…" Ichabod started, already blushing at what he was about to say, "I'm actually having… I guess you'd call them night terrors. These nightmares… they wake me up. Willy's been good about it, he doesn't get upset with me, but I guess I'm asking if this is normal. It happens almost every night."

"It happens to many people during pregnancy, nothing to be ashamed of," Schnabel answered, trying to make Ichabod feel a little better, "It's got to do with the changes your body is going through. Sorta messes with your brain a little. I have a book on it, if you want to learn about it, but yes it's normal."

"All right."

It seems to be really bothering you, judging by how much you're blushing," The doctor pointed out.

Ichabod cringed. "It does."

"It would probably help if you talk about them, or if you write down your thoughts somewhere. I'd be happy to schedule some therapy sessions with you, or I can give you a notebook to write in. Or you can talk to any of the other residents that you feel comfortable with, or you can start an online blog. A lot of those websites have free memberships. There's a lot you can do, really."

"But… it's not normal for a man to be afraid of nightmares like this. I should be able to cope… They just get so frightening sometimes."

"Like I said, it's really nothing to be ashamed of. I've run this shelter for seven years now, and you're not the first, nor will you be the last patient to have problems sleeping."

"If you say so," Ichabod answered, looking down at his hands.

"I also think you should talk to someone about Katrina. You're having some… problems… with her, yes?"

Ichabod's eyes got wide, "You know about that?! How?!"

"You were pretty upset on the day of the Christmas party. We all knew about it. I was thinking maybe you should talk to Jack about that. You know, he's missing someone too."

Ichabod sighed angrily, frustrated at himself for being so obviously emotional. He was a bit surprised by Schnabel's suggestion, though. Jack seemed totally fine. He'd had no idea that the pirate might be having relationship problems as well.

"I didn't realize Jack had a girlfriend," Ichabod stated.

"Jack's good at hiding his emotions, but I'm sure he can relate to what you're feeling."

"I'll talk to him," Ichabod said, softly.

"Good. So, let's do the ultrasound, and you're all done for the month, then."

Dr. Schnabel called Jack in after Ichabod had left. He intended for Jack to be his last patient of the day; in his mind, there was no reason to examine Mort. It would lead to frustration for both him and for the writer.

The pirate wandered in, and the doctor couldn't help but stare. Jack was wearing a very tight blue Star Trek t-shirt with the faces of most of the original cast on it. The shirt was tight enough to show where his pregnant belly was sticking out. He was also wearing a pair of torn up, loose sweatpants.

"Uh," The doctor started, "Did Mort give those clothes to you?" Mort was the only person that Schnabel would think of who would possess clothes that horrible.

"Yep, he couldn't wear it anymore so he let me borrow it," Jack said, "It's nice, isn't it?"

"Uh... I think that's a woman's shirt," Dr. Schnabel answered, "And it's too tight on you. And you're wearing short sleeves in the middle of winter?"

"I'm hot all the time!" Jack said. "It's uncomfortable. At least in this, I don't sweat all day. I'm telling you, I spent my entire life in the Caribbean and it was never this bad. I should be cold all the time, since it's so cold out."

"I'm sorry you're still feeling that way. I think you should probably get some clothes that fit right, though. I have some old shirts you can borrow, if you like," The doctor offered.

"Are you trying to say something, mate?" Jack asked, obviously offended.

Dr. Schnabel sighed. This probably wasn't worth the argument that was probably going to occur.

"No, Jack. You can wear whatever you like. Forget I said anything."

"Damn straight I can wear whatever I like. Now, let's get on with this checkup, yeah? I don't have all day."

Dr. Schnabel snorted in amusement, "And what exactly are your plans for later?"

"I…well… I was going to watch Star Trek with Mort."

"Pfft. Okay, I'll try to make this fast so I don't interrupt your night of partying," He joked.

Jack glared at the doctor. "Hey, a man's got to take whatever fun he can get."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm just kidding. You know the drill. Blood pressure, weight, ultrasound."

Jack rolled his eyes, then stuck out his arm so that Dr. Schnabel could wrap the cuff around it.

"Blood pressure seems a little high, but not totally abnormal," The doctor said a minute later. He went on to take Jack's weight, which was fine. He was right on track for someone as advanced as he was in a pregnancy. Last came the ultrasound.

As soon as the doctor started using the wand to see Jack's baby, the baby started moving around, causing Jack to squirm as well.

"Is she usually this active?" Dr. Schnabel asked, moving the wand around.

"Eh, yeah, she keeps me up at night moving around like that. She'll be strong, that's for sure. Can probably help me on the ship when she's older."

"Mm-hm. Well she looks fine. She's getting big, she'll probably be a larger baby when she's born. Eight or nine pounds most likely."

"Oh, great. That'll be fun to push out," Jack said. He sounded sarcastic, but he turned slightly green. Dr. Schnabel guessed that the thought of giving birth probably frightened him more than he'd like to admit.

"We'll take care of you, Jack. Don't worry."

"So she's coming around Spring, then?"

"Late spring, probably."

"Great," Jack said, still looking kind of sick.

"You'll be fine," Dr. Schnabel said reassuringly.

"I hope you're right," Jack replied.

00

As Jack left the exam room, Mort was playing with Buster on the common room floor. He had a fake mouse on a stick and was trying to get Buster to chase it, but the cat seemed to understand that it wasn't real and that going after the toy would be a waste of energy.

"Stupid cat," He mumbled, putting the toy down. "Too smart for his own good."

Buster merely stared at Mort, and then licked his front paw.

Jack came into the common room a second later.

"Hey, Jack," Mort called. "We still on for Star Trek tonight? I got the entire first season of the original series on blu-ray!"

"Yeah, yeah," Jack replied, quickly trying to get to his room. "I'll see ya at 7, savvy?"

Before Mort could reply, Jack had gotten to his room and slammed the door shut.

"Weird," Mort said to himself. He shrugged and continued trying to entice Buster to play with him.

Then Sam walked through, trying to get to the kitchen. For some reason he was craving cake or cookies or something sweet, and he knew that there were probably leftover desserts from the party.

"Hey," Mort said, distracting Sam from his food fantasy.

"Yes?" Sam answered, stopping to look at Mort. He smiled at the cat, and the cat in turn sat down and began licking itself again.

"Where has everyone been today? It's been dead here."

"Oh, we all had our exams today," Sam answered, "Didn't you have one?"

Mort couldn't help but scowl. "No, I didn't."

"Oh…" was all Sam said, feeling kind of awkward. "I guess you should talk to Dr. Schnabel and ask for one, then?"

"Yeah, whatever, THANKS SAM," Mort said, practically yelling the last two words in anger. Sam shuddered, but then continued on his quest for sugar.

"Stupid doctor, totally ignoring me," Mort mumbled. "But then again, maybe it's less stress if I don't ask for one. It's stupid, anyway. Fuck that shit."

He looked at Buster for confirmation that he'd made the right decision. The cat simply switched from licking its back legs to licking its butt.

"Nice, buddy. Real classy."

00

Ichabod had gone back to his room, feeling rather down about Katrina. Wonka was somewhere else in the shelter, so he was by himself.

The dark-haired man laid on his bed for a while, staring at the ceiling, trying to think of other things but her, but he was failing. Finally he decided to go see if Jack was around. Maybe it would be good to talk to him.

He got up and went to the room that Jack shared with Edward, and knocked on the door. It was a few seconds before anyone answered.

"Yeah?" Jack answered. "Who's there?"

"It's Ichabod," The constable called through the door.

"Do ya need something? I don't feel like getting up if I don't have to, so come in."

Ichabod opened the door, and walked into the room. It was surprisingly neat. He had figured that the pirate was probably fairly messy and had expected to see clothes and other objects thrown around… but the room actually seemed orderly.

Jack was lying on his bed, propped up on what looked like at least three pillows, and resting a hand on his stomach. He was still wearing the Star Trek shirt that Mort had given him.

"You alright?" Jack asked, noticing that Ichabod looked pretty depressed.

Ichabod took a deep breath. He knew that if he started talking he'd probably start crying too.

"N-no," He finally answered, when he saw that Jack was staring at him, waiting for a reply.

"Well what's wrong? Go sit on Edward's bed and tell me."

Ichabod couldn't help but smirk. It was just like Jack to offer up someone else's space like that.

"I'll just sit here, thanks," Ichabod said, pulling a chair over from the little desk that was nearby.

"Whatever, mate. It's your back. Now what's wrong?"

"Well… you probably know that before I came here, I was married."

"Yeah, to that Katrina bird, right?" Jack asked.

"Yes. When she… when she found out that I was… like this," Ichabod said, gesturing to his stomach. "She told me to leave."

"So that's why you're here, then," Jack said, an uncharacteristically sad look crossing his face. "Women can be tough. I should know, I've had my bad experiences too."

"What happened?"

"Well, there was this woman named Angelica. It's a really long story but basically I stranded her on an island."

"You… stranded her?"

"Yes. After I saved her life, actually. I loved her, and I think she loved me… it just wouldn't have worked. Too much of a possibility for revenge, and such."

"Revenge?"

"I killed her father to save her life."

"Wow...How'd you meet her?"

"Spanish convent. Thought it was a brothel."

Ichabod's eyes widened. He would never even considered going to a brothel. "I see."

"Then there were a bunch of attempts at double crossings, all that bullshit. She tried to kill me a couple times."

"…You lead a strange life, Jack," Ichabod said.

Jack snorted, "And you're Mr. Normal yourself? Anyway the point is, I loved her, and she's far away now, and the whole situation is so complex…" He trailed off, and sighed. Suddenly, he looked very sad, almost as if he might cry.

Ichabod frowned, and slowly moved to wrap his arms around Jack. He wasn't sure if the pirate would push him away, and he thought for sure he might, so he was surprised that Jack returned the hug. Ichabod could hear him sobbing and he could feel Jack's tears falling onto his shoulder, and knowing that Jack was crying made him start to cry too. It was just too much.

Eventually, Jack pulled back, wiping tears away from his eyes. "It's just not fair, ya know? Why can't it just be normal? Look at Sam and Joon. They're so happy! Why can't I have that? Why can't you have that?"

Ichabod rested a hand on Jack's shoulder, "I know, I know. I feel the same way. I wish we could both have that, women who love us and who we love." He sniffled, more tears falling down his face. "I just miss Katrina so much. Her smile, her laugh. I wish she would love me as I love her... that we could have a good marriage, again. If only.. if it wasn't for this baby..."

Jack shook his head, "Don't say that, mate. It's not the kid's fault. I'm sure you'll find another lady in time. You're nice and smart and all that crap, it won't be hard."

Ichabod sniffed again, "Thanks, Jack. I'm sure you'll find someone else too, but I wish you could be with Angelica."

Jack nodded. "Thanks...I feel a little better now."

"Me too," Ichabod agreed. "Me too."


	12. Chapter 12

******A/N: Phish Tacko beta'd this. Go check out her page, she's an awesome author!**

**Chapter 12**

Jack had gotten closer to both Ichabod and Mort in the two days since the exam and since Ichabod had come to talk to him. And now, it was Christmas Eve. He, Ichabod, and Mort all sat together near the tree, looking at the presents beneath it. Someone had gone out of their way to buy everyone gifts. The rest of the group was there too, scattered about the room.

Mort picked up a box that had his name on it. It was wrapped in paper with little scary elves on it. He shook it, hearing something rattle inside. "Ooh, wonder what this might be!" He said, grinning.

Ichabod rolled his eyes. "Put it back, Mort. You can wait 12 hours to open it."

Mort muttered something that sounded like 'killjoy', but put the gift back.

Just then, Gilbert cleared his throat. He was sitting on the couch next to Sam, who holding a small story book.

"Ahem."

Everyone looked up at the redhead.

"Sam is going to read The Night Before Christmas, if that's all alright with you."

Everyone agreed.

"O… okay," Sam said, blushing as he opened the book. Everyone's eyes were on him and he knew it.

"It was the night before Christmas, and all through the house," He began slowly, looking around at everyone, who nodded for him to continue. "Not a creature was... st.. st.." Sam looked at Gilbert, who whispered the word 'stirring' to him. "Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. All of the stockings were hung by the chim… chimney with care, in hopes that St. Nic-o-las would soon be there..." Sam looked around again, nervously.

"Good job," Edward said, softly as always. "Keep going."

"The children were n-nestled all snug in their beds... with v..v.." Sam looked at Gilbert again, who mouthed 'visions' to him, "...with visions of sugar plums danced in their heads..."

Everyone remained silent for the duration of Sam's reading, watching as the young man spoke slowly and carefully. He did a pretty good job, actually, considering he'd just started learning fairly recently.

When Sam was finished, everyone clapped.

"Thank you," He said, closing the book and holding it to his chest. "And thank you Gilbert for helping me."

Gilbert smiled, and Sam pulled him into a hug.

"Sure. Merry Christmas, Sam," Gilbert said, hugging him back.

00

The next morning, everyone unwrapped presents in the morning, and those who had family had made plans to see them in the afternoon.

Mort had been the first to wake up, around 6 AM, just like a little kid wanting to see what Santa had brought. He had woken Jack, who'd woken Edward. The both of them had woken Ichabod, and had tried to get Wonka up but he threw a pillow at Jack's head. The man definitely wasn't a morning person, even if there were gifts waiting for him. Sam, Gilbert, and Dr. Schnabel had joined a few minutes later.

The doctor began passing out gifts soon after. He'd been the one to make sure that everyone had something. It didn't seem fair to let those without loved ones have nothing under the tree. He hadn't labeled them as being from him, though, he'd only labeled them as gifts from "Santa".

First, he handed Ichabod a medium sized box. The constable looked it over, then very carefully unwrapped the paper around it.

"The Casebook of Forensic Detection," He read aloud, pulling a book out. "Very interesting! Thank you to whomever gave me this!"

No one directly answered, but there were mumbles of 'very cool', 'epic', and 'neat' from everyone else.

Next, Dr. Schnabel handed two smaller packages to Mort. One was the one he'd been touching the day prior, and one was a little bit bigger. Being a (somewhat crazy, jaded) kid at heart, Mort went for the bigger one first. He tore through the paper to reveal a remastered edition of the season 2 of the Star Trek original series.

"Holy shit," He said, looking it over. He then showed it to Jack, who nodded in approval. "This is fucking awesome! I lost my season 2 DVD months ago! Fuck yes!"

Everyone laughed at Mort's enthusiasm, then Dr. Schnabel spoke up. "There's a smaller package, too," He reminded the writer.

"Oh, yeah," Mort said. He opened the other gift to reveal a couple of cat toys: a ball with catnip in it, a ball with a jingle bell in it, and there was a brand new black collar that said "BUSTER" written on it, with little white skulls around it.

"Epic," Mort said, looking everything over, "I'm sure Buster will be appreciative."

Dr. Schnabel then reached over and handed Jack a package. His looked much like a box.

"What's this, then?" He asked, tearing through the paper much like Mort had. There was, in fact, a box, and in it there were tee shirts that were size large. One was very similar to the one Mort had given him, blue with the faces of the Star Trek characters on it, and one was black with the Jolly Roger symbol on the front. Jack held the Star Trek one up.

"Bigger tee shirts. Someone trying to tell me something?" He asked, looking around for the guilty party.

There was an awkward silence, no one admitting to any 'wrong doing'. Finally Edward spoke up.

"They look nice, Jack," was all he said.

"Yeah, yeah. They're decent. Still don't know what's wrong with my current attire, though," Jack said.

Everyone just looked at him, trying not to stare at how his stomach was sticking out from beneath the tight X-Men t-shirt he was wearing.

"...Right, who's next then?" Gilbert asked, trying to change the subject.

"You are," The doctor said, handing him an envelope. Gilbert looked at it curiously, then opened it up. There was a beautiful, handmade Christmas card inside, that looked like it'd cost a decent amount to buy. He flipped it open.

"Gilbert – Merry Christmas, and thank you for all of your help," it said in the middle. Everyone had signed it, leaving little messages scrawled all over it. Someone had even signed for Edward. There was a hundred dollar bill and a fifty dollar bill folded up inside.

"Everyone chipped in for that," Dr. Schnabel said, referring to the fact that everyone had given ten dollars for Gilbert's gift. He'd put in the rest himself, but he didn't need to mention that. "We weren't sure what to get you, so we figured you could buy yourself whatever you wanted."

Gilbert smiled, "Thank you guys, I'll be sure to spend it wisely."

"Yeah," "Sure," "You're Welcome," came everyone's replies.

Gilbert reached over, and, seeing a package marked "Sam", handed the gift to his friend. It was kind of a heavy package, and Sam examined it thoroughly much like Ichabod had examined his gift.

"Thank you," He said, to everyone, before he'd even opened it. "You didn't have to do anything."

"OPEN IT," Jack called out in reply.

Sam smiled and did as he was told. He pulled out a beautiful, brand new Bible with gold leaf on the edges of the paper. "Wow..." He said, stunned. "This is... this is amazing! I can't wait to be able to read it!"

The way that Sam was beaming made everyone else smile, and even made a few people go 'Aww'.

Edward was the last one to receive a present. It was wrapped nicely in a bow, and he snipped off the paper with ease. Inside his gift were several sets of baby clothes, for both a boy and a girl. There was a little pink dress and a little blue onesie, along with a yellow frock and the tiniest pair of blue jeans and striped shirt that Edward had ever seen. He held them up as gently as possible.

"Thank you," He said, smiling slightly. "This is very nice of you."

"We weren't really sure what you wanted so we figured at least you could save a little money on infant clothes in the future," The doctor explained.

"It's a great gift," Edward said sincerely "Thank you again."

With that, Christmas morning was wrapped up. Wonka had (of course) slept through the whole thing, not waking up until mid-afternoon.

00

Christmas Day had passed quickly and so did the days after it. They were filled with fun, happiness, and buttloads of food.

Finally it was New Years Eve. The residents were celebrating by having pizza, non-alcoholic champagne, and watching the ball drop on television.

It was just after they'd rang in the New Year that Mort had first heard the noise outside. It sounded like someone, or a few people, were laughing hysterically at something. Everyone chalked it up to drunk people wandering the streets after their New Year's parties, and ignored it.

Then, thirty minutes later, there was the sound of a loud THUMP outside the back door.

Ichabod nudged Jack, who was starting to fall asleep on the couch. "What was that?" he asked.

Jack shrugged, looking very sleepy. Being pregnant took a huge toll on his energy levels sometimes.

"I'm not a bloody psychic. Go see for yourself," He said, obviously annoyed. He got that way when he was overtired, sometimes.

Ichabod sighed. He would've gotten Dr. Schnabel, but he was already sleeping, and, truth be told, Ichabod felt like the doctor had done a lot for them. Instead, he went to go get Edward, who was already in bed. At the very least, coming out with someone who looked like they had knives for hands was sure to scare off any intruders.

Edward was snoring when he entered the room. He'd been doing that in the last month or so. Ichabod shook him awake.

"Edward, can you come with me?" He asked once the younger man's eyes were open. "I think I hear someone outside."

"Urgh... okay," Edward said, trying to sit up. It was getting harder and harder for him to do, what with his big belly getting in the way. Finally he managed to get up. Ichabod grabbed a flashlight, and the two walked out back. They opened the door and were shocked to see the entire yard covered in white paper. Every single bush, tree, and pole-shaped object was covered. Even the railing on the stairs was wrapped in toilet paper.

"What the hell?" Ichabod whispered, looking around.

Then he heard Edward speak up. "I think I found them," He said.

Ichabod came over by Edward and looked down to find two men, sitting with their backs up against the wall. One of them had a white streak through his black, unruly hair, and the other, a younger, blonde man, was holding a roll of toilet paper. There looked to be a few cans of Monster littering the ground, and both of the men looked to be half asleep.

Ichabod shined the flashlight in the older one's face, causing him to groan.

"What the fuck...?" he asked, looking around. He elbowed the younger one. "Yo. Anthony. Wake up, I think we've been caught."

"Fuck you, Mr Todd." The blonde mumbled, rubbing his eyes. His speech was slightly slurred from the crash. "Bollocks…"

"Who are you?" Edward asked. "And why did you TP our shelter?"

"'Coz it's bloody New Year's Eve, that's why," The dark haired one replied.

"It's the fucking energy drinks' fault," The younger one added. "It was a fuckin'… caffeine apocalypse..." He put a hand over his mouth. "Oh shit… I don't feel well…" He groaned. The older man moved out of the way just in time for the blonde to throw up.

"How many energy drinks did you have?" Ichabod asked.

The man with the streak thought for a moment. "Fifteen? Eight? More than five. I'm telling you... Fuckin' CAFFEINE APOCALYPSE."

The blonde just looked into the flashlight beam, then threw up again. This time, the action seemed to make the older one sick, too. He stood up, leaned over, and vomited for what felt like an awkwardly long time. When he finished, he grabbed a loose piece of toilet paper from the railing and wiped his mouth, then laid a hand on his stomach. "Maybe drinking the whole case wasn't such a good idea," He groaned, looking even paler than he did before.

"Fuck that… It was worth it," The blonde answered. His left eye was halfway closed and he was starting to laugh quietly.

Ichabod shook his head. "As much as I absolutely hate to even suggest this, I don't think either of you are all right. You should probably come inside. We have a doctor on staff."

The blonde and the dark-haired man looked at each other, and shrugged.

"You may be right," The older one said.

"I am right. But come tomorrow, no matter how ill you are, you're cleaning this entire yard up."

"Whatever," The older one said. Both he and the blonde were starting to look sick again. "Just let us inside, yeah?"

"We're freezin' our asses off." The blonde shivered but took his coat off anyway. "Ugh… Fucking hell…" He mopped sweat off his forehead with his sleeve. "Are we fucking retarded? Who the hell does this bullshit? Who the fuck are we, the fuckin'… Dukes of Hazard? This isn't fuckin'… Jackass, or all that bullshit… Fuckin' jackasses…"

Ichabod raised an eyebrow at the tangent the blonde had gone off into.

"Are you drunk?"

"No, I'm not fucking drunk." The blonde glared at Ichabod.

"…Are you high?"

"Who the fuck do I look like, Kristen Stewart?"

"Just... come inside and we'll sort this out. But don't try anything. My friend over there, do you see his hands? Think what he could do with them if someone was fucking with us," Ichabod said, motioning towards Edward.

Edward, for his part, just blushed sheepishly.

The blonde's eyes got wide when he saw the scissors on Edward's hands. "What the fuck? What's with the hands?"

The hurt on Edward's face was apparent, and he opened his mouth to reply when older one spoke up.

"Your hands are magnificent," He said, getting closer to Edward. "May I?" He gently took hold of Edward's forearm, and examined the boy's scissors. "Amazing… Holy crap…"

Edward couldn't help but cringe at the way this man was sounding. It looked like the guy had a million evil plans going through his brain at once.

"T-thanks," Edward stammered. "Maybe we should go in."

"Yeah, alright," He agreed, eyes still focused on the scissors.

Ichabod led everyone inside and into the common room, which was, thankfully, empty. The younger one was starting to look sick again, so Ichabod told him and the dark-haired man to sit down on the couch.

"What are your names?" Ichabod asked, watching as the blonde rubbed his eyes with his hand and the older one rested a hand on his stomach. He wasn't looking particularly good, either.

"Todd. Sweeney Todd. And this here is Anthony Hope."

Anthony nodded slightly when he was introduced, then continued rubbing his eyes. A second later, he groaned, feeling very sick again. Sweeney reacted quickly and grabbed a bowl of candy, dumped its contents out, and shoved the empty basin under Anthony's mouth, just in time for him to be sick.

The whole thing was loud and it bothered Ichabod immensely, so he turned away while this happened. Finally, Anthony seemed to recover, having thrown up the vast majority of the energy drinks he and Todd had consumed earlier.

"Do you have a bathroom?" The young man asked.

"No, we shower on the roof," Ichabod retorted, smirking at his own joke. "_Of course _we have a bathroom. It's down the hall to the right."

Anthony rolled his eyes, but stood up and took his bowl with him to dump it out.

"I'm going to give you both some bread," Ichabod said as Anthony left the room. "It'll probably help your stomach a bit... might absorb some of the caffeine."

"Okay," Sweeney replied, closing his eyes and leaning back. He felt like he was about to be sick too, but was trying to fight it.

Ichabod handed him a piece of bread a second later. "Eat this," He instructed.

The thought of putting anything else in his stomach was completely repulsive, but Todd knew that this man would probably just get annoyed if he didn't eat it. And, he wanted to stay inside for now. It was cold out that night and he didn't feel like being kicked out in the snow.

Slowly, he ate the bread, and to his surprise actually felt a little better. When Anthony returned, Ichabod offered him some food as well. Soon enough both of them were well enough to function, at least.

"You two may sleep in the common room," Ichabod said. He looked at Edward, who nodded in agreement. "Tomorrow morning Doctor Schnabel will probably examine you. After that, you're going to clean up the yard, as I told you earlier."

"Yes, mum," Anthony replied sarcastically. Todd smacked his arm. He didn't want his friend jeopardizing their night in a warm place. His shop wasn't particularly... well, it wasn't heated, and Johanna surely would not let Todd sleep over there with her and Anthony. She still didn't know Sweeney was her father, after all, so it would be weird letting some old guy sleep in the same room as her and her boyfriend.

Ichabod disregarded Anthony's statement, and went to the closet to get some blankets and pillows.

Soon enough, both visitors were cuddled up on the couch and in a recliner, trying to sleep.

Meanwhile, back upstairs, Jack was tossing and turning. He was having a very detailed, very frightening dream that involved angels and demons and drowning people he loved. Needless to say, it was scary, even for him. Just as he almost got eaten by a devil, he woke up, covered in sweat and breathing heavily. His baby was moving around too, the adrenaline coursing through his body having hit her as well.

"Fuck," He sighed, wiping sweat from his face. He tried to slow his breathing, but he felt overwhelmed. Jack glanced across the room to see if Edward was there, and, seeing that the bed was empty made him feel even worse. The nervous, paranoid part of his mind had convinced him that what he had dreamed was real, that maybe there were demons hiding in the room somewhere, just waiting to get him... and there was no way he could fight such a thing off in his state. Hell, Jack hadn't even seen his feet in quite some time. No way he could be running around and swinging a sword.

At least, if Edward had been there, he would've felt a little safer. Edward would merely have to stab an evil being with his scissors, which were his hands, which meant they were easy for him to operate.

The fear kept building up in the pirate, and it didn't take long for him to feel like he wanted to cry again.

"Get a hold of yourself," He whispered. "You're Captain Jack Sparrow. Nightmares don't frighten you. You've faced the bloody Kraken head-on!"

But it didn't work. Captain Jack Sparrow was frightened.

Sighing, he pushed himself up, pulled his blanket around him, and went to go to the only person he thought might be understanding.

Knock knock knock

"Mort?"

Knock knock knock

"Mort?"

Knock knock knock

"Mort?"

Knock knock knock

"Mort?"

Mort woke up the fourth time Jack had knocked.

"What?" He groaned angrily. He was clearly still mostly in dreamland.

"It's Jack. Can I come in?"

There was a deep sigh. "Yeah, fine, just shut the door behind you. Don't want to let Buster out."

Jack did as he was told, while Mort felt around on the bedside, looking for his glasses. Once he could see Jack clearly, he was taken aback. In the moonlight he could see tears running down the pirate's face.

"Are you okay?" The writer asked, moving to give Jack space to sit down.

"I had a weird dream," Jack answered. "It made me nervous."

"I see," Mort replied.

"And then Edward wasn't there, so I got more nervous. So here I am."

Mort nodded. "Well, you have to remember, that whatever you dreamed was only a dream. You're safe here, you know that, right? No crazy crew members or monsters are going to come after you here."

Jack shook his head. "What you're saying makes sense, I just don't feel it in me. I feel scared."

"We are all going through a scary time. It's okay to be afraid now and then," Mort said honestly. "I was afraid when I saw that huge spider in the shower last week. I was screaming bloody murder until Dr. Schnabel came up and asked what was wrong."

Jack gave him a horrified look. "…Spider?"

"Yep."

"…And what happened to said spider?"

"Oh, it disappeared."

"…So, it could be hiding."

"Yeah, but Buster can always eat it if he finds it. He ate a Daddy Longlegs yesterday."

Jack still looked sad and scared, so Mort wrapped his arms around him and pulled him into a hug. He rubbed the pirate's back like his mother used to do with him when he was upset.

"Don't you ever tell anyone I did this," He mumbled loud enough for Jack to hear. The statement made Jack smile.

"I'm holding you to the same, mate. No one knows about this."

"Since we're being so nice and sentimental, I'll let you stay here for tonight if you want," Mort offered. "I'll even go get you some tea to help calm you down."

"That would be great, actually," Jack replied.

"Yeah. Sure. You'd do the same and all that, I know," Mort said, as if needing to give himself a reason for his random act of kindness. "I'll be right back. Just, uh, don't wake Buster. He gets cranky if he doesn't get his 17 hours of beauty sleep."

Jack glanced over to see Buster curled up in a kitty bed on the floor next to Mort's bed.

"Okay."

Mort got up and quietly left the room, heading to the kitchen to get Jack's tea. He was about halfway through the common area when it occurred to him that there were two people on the sofas. Two people that he didn't know.

"WHAT THE FUCK?" He shrieked, startled, causing both men to wake up.

"AH!" Anthony screamed, throwing a pillow at Mort. "WHAT THE FUCK!"

"What the hell?" Sweeney asked groggily.

"WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?" Mort shrieked angrily, "AND WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE?"

All of the yelling woke Dr. Schnabel, who came running into the common room, dressed in his pajamas.

"What's going on here? Who are you?" He asked the two new people.

"Sweeney Todd and Anthony Hope," Sweeney answered for the second time that night. "The constable said we could stay here for the evening." Just then, he turned very pale and made a run for the bathroom. Everyone could hear him vomiting from outside.

Dr. Schnabel pinched the bridge of his nose, preparing for what would surely be a very long morning.

It was close to 3 AM when Dr. Schnabel began Anthony's exam. He knew he couldn't go back to sleep now that he was awake, so he figured he may as well just get it done.

"So, you're sixteen years old, Anthony?" The doctor asked, writing in his trusty notebook.

"Fuck yes. Legal to drive!"

The doctor raised an eyebrow. "Okay. Well, just so you know, I'm examining you because you were sick earlier. You said that you and your friend were drinking a bunch of energy drinks?"

"Did you see that piece of bacon that looked like Elvis?" Anthony was grinning like a moron.

Dr. Schnabel sighed. "Can you please focus for a moment?

"Fuck yes, I can."

"Good. So, you and your friend were drinking a bunch of energy drinks. How many did you have?"

"Eleventeen."

"Please be serious, I'm just trying to make sure you're okay."

"Fine. Somewhere between eight and twenty. A buttload. A shit ton. Happy now?"

The doctor marked this down. "I think you're sick because you have overdosed on caffeine. Ichabod did the right thing giving you some bread to eat. You'll probably feel like you got hit by a truck in a few hours. It'll be similar to a hangover from drinking too much alcohol."

"Bollocks, that doesn't sound fun."

The doctor shrugged. "You did it to yourself. I want to take a blood test, just for my records, if that's okay. I just need to know you're not high on anything illegal before I let you go."

"Fine, whatever," Anthony said, sticking out his arm. "You won't find anything but caffeine."

"I hope not," The doctor said, sticking him with a needle.

When Dr. Schnabel was finished drawing Anthony's blood, he sent him out and let him go back to sleep on the couch. The doctor would allow him to leave as soon as the results of the test were in.

He called Sweeney in next. He noticed that the man was eating a banana.

"Uh, did you take that from the kitchen?" The doctor asked.

Sweeney shrugged. "Someone left a bunch of bananers out so I thought they were for everyone."

"For everyone who lives here."

Sweeney shrugged again. "Don't leave food out if you don't expect people to take it."

"I'll keep that in mind. Alright, I'm told you were also drinking a bunch of energy drinks?"

"Yep."

"Like your friend, I think you're sick because of a caffeine overdose. However..." He noticed that Sweeney had one hand on his stomach, which was very slightly curved. It seemed kind of out of place on such a skinny man. "...Have you ever been tested for the Mpreg gene?"

Sweeney took a deep breath and dodged the question. "Why are you doing this, doctor? What do you get out of running this shelter? Obviously you can't make much money besides donations, so why the good deed?"

Dr. Schnabel took a seat, and placed his clipboard down. "Well... that's a long story, Mr. Todd."

"I'd like to hear it. No one does something for nothing."

"When the Mpreg gene was first discovered as being prevalent among males, back in the 80's, I was one of the first ones to become pregnant. I was living in East Germany at the time, and as you know, the country was divided by the Berlin Wall."

"Okay..."

"Since we lived on the communist side, and couldn't get over to the West, we didn't have very good medical care, or much food, or even decent drinking water. Anyway, I was fifteen when I found out I was pregnant, and my family, despite being poor, took care of me as best they could. They tried very hard, giving me their extra food, boiling water so I could have clean water to drink... they were very loving."

"Alright, so what's this got to do with the shelter?"

"I'm getting to it. In spring of 1985, I gave birth. Not in a hospital... our hospitals were terrible, but in our little apartment. There was no medical care... we had a neighbor who was a doctor years earlier, but … the little girl was stillborn. Nothing could be done to save her. For the entire time I was pregnant, I had fantasized about how wonderful it would be to have a little girl. I'd try to give her a good life, teach her things, teach her to be happy and love even if the world around her wasn't so great. And I lost that, all of that potential, within hours. After that I promised myself I'd do something to help others avoid a similar fate. So, I came to America when the wall was demolished. Went to medical school, and started this shelter. No, I don't get a lot of money from it, but I do get the satisfaction of knowing that I'm helping others."

"...Wow," Sweeney replied, suddenly feeling terrible for bringing the subject up. "I'm... sorry for your loss."

The doctor nodded, "I would have loved to have known my daughter, but perhaps, to an extent, it was for the greater good. This shelter has saved many lives."

Deep inside, Sweeney felt a little spark in his heart. This man was doing something wonderful just from the kindness of his heart... he'd turned a tragedy into a chance at life for others, and all Sweeney had done was live in misery and hatred.

"I... I think I might know how you feel. I actually gave birth to a daughter sixteen years ago," Sweeney replied. "In Australia... when I was... when I was locked up." He shuddered at the memory of being raped and eventually having to give birth in a cell.

The doctor could tell he was uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry. I hate to ask you, but is there any way you could possibly be pregnant again?"

"I...well, there's a chance..."

"I'd like to do a blood test on you, Mr. Todd. I did one on your friend. There is a routine pregnancy screening as part of it."

"Okay..."

"Don't worry, Mr Todd. If you are, in fact, pregnant, we'll take good care of you. I promise."

Sweeney breathed in shakily. He was nervous, and was having a hard time hiding it.

"May I see your arm?" The doctor asked.

Sweeney complied, holding his arm out so the doctor could take blood. It only took a couple minutes to fill up the vial.

Sweeney stood up when he was done.

"You can go lay down now," The doctor said.

"Yeah, about that," Sweeney said. "Do you have any other food in the kitchen I could have, first? That whole caffeine apocalypse was insane. I'm starving."

00

Sweeney and Anthony didn't get much sleep afterward anyway, because everyone came out of their rooms mid-morning for breakfast, and most of them were pretty loud about it. However, they were all in such a race to get to the waffles and bacon that not one person, save Ichabod and Edward, even noticed Sweeney and Anthony glaring out at them all from under their blankets.

Dr. Schnabel had been right. Both of them felt like they'd gone on the biggest binge drinking adventure EVER, even though neither had actually touched a drop of alcohol.

"Ugh," Sweeney groaned once the stampede of pregnant men coming through the common area had stopped. "My head hurts so bad..."

"Ugh… Mr. Todd, you asshole… Shut the fuck up…!" Anthony replied, rubbing his temples.

The two sat there for a minute and tried to regain their composure until Sweeney spoke up.

"Do you smell waffles?" He looked around, trying to trace where it was coming from. It smelled good and he was hungry again.

Anthony just stared like Sweeney had just spontaneously grown a full beard in under 5 seconds.

"How the fuck can you even THINK of eating right now?"

Sweeney shrugged. "I like food."

"You're a fucking pig," Anthony replied, lying back down. "I think they went that way," He pointed to the left.

"I'll be back, then," Sweeney said, standing up and throwing his blanket onto the couch.

It only took him a minute to find the dining area, where everyone was, in fact, eating waffles. And bacon.

"Mmm, bacon…" Sweeney was almost drooling. Everyone stopped eating and turned to look at the new person standing near their precious bacon.

"And you are…?" Mort asked, pushing the plate out of Sweeney's way. That was good bacon, dammit, and he was going to protect it.

"Sweeney Todd."

"You're the arsehole who TP'd our yard last night, aren't you?" Jack asked.

"Maybe. Can I have some bacon?"

Just then, Dr. Schnabel walked in. "Ah, good morning, Mr. Todd. Didn't expect you to be joining us so early. Is Anthony awake, too?"

"He was. Probably not anymore."

The doctor nodded, "I'd like to talk to you both after breakfast. Come have a seat, there's more than enough here. Plus you'll need your energy for cleaning up the yard later."

Sweeney noticed that Ichabod was smirking at the doctor's statement, like he got some type of joy out of making him clean up the mess.

'That one must be a stickler for rules,' the barber thought to himself. He took a seat near the person with those wonderful scissor hands and another man who was wearing a fedora.

"Hi," The man with the hat said, extending his hand. "I'm Sam."

Sweeney shook his hand. "Hello."

Sam noticed that the man was eyeing basically all of the food on the table, and passed him over the plate of waffles. "Here you go."

Sweeney put three of them on a plate, then turned back to Sam. "Pass the bacon."

"Uh, okay…" Sam said, taking the plate of bacon away from Mort. Mort glared at him as if the boy had taken away his cat or something, but said nothing. "Here." He placed the plate in front of Sweeney, who took a few pieces of meat.

Everyone watched as the man with the white streak in his hair shoveled the waffles and bacon into his mouth as if someone was going to steal it from him. He almost finished before anyone else had even gotten halfway through their meal.

"You eat fast," Sam noted, slowly taking a bite of his own food.

"Yep." and with that, Sweeney reached over. "You gonna eat that?" He forked one of Sam's waffles, taking it from him.

"Hey!" Sam protested.

"Next time you'll react a little faster. Life lesson," Sweeney said in between bites.

Sam didn't even know what to say to that.

After breakfast, Sweeney followed Dr. Schnabel to his office. Anthony was still passed out on the couch.

The doctor pulled out a chair for him, and closed the door behind them.

"I got your test results," The doctor started. "And it looks like you're pregnant. Do you have any recollection of when this may have occurred?"

Sweeney thought for a moment. "A little more than a month ago, most likely. Fuck… I don't need this right now..."

The doctor nodded in understanding. "If you have nowhere to go, you can always stay here," He offered. "I could provide you with prenatal care as well."

Sweeney sighed. "I really don't. I mean, there's my shop, but it's in the 'hood, there's no heat, I'm old, and the mattress is a 19-year-old piece of hand-me-down crap."

"You're welcome to stay here, then. Now, I'd like to get some more information on you so we can track your progress. It's a bit early for an ultrasound, so we won't be able to see much, but if you could tell me any symptoms you're having, it would be good."

"Nothing, really, that's just it," Sweeney said. "Not yet, at least. It was inexplicably easy with Johanna, too. Except for all the bleeding and my having to give birth on the disgusting, unsanitary dirt floor of a prison cell. I'm honestly a little surprised that she didn't come out retarded."

Dr. Schnabel frowned. "I'm sorry that you had to go through that. I really am."

Sweeney shrugged. "It was what it was. What happened last night... I know you're not supposed to have caffeine while you're pregnant, but... Did it... will it hurt the baby?"

"It wasn't healthy, but no, I do not think it hurt the baby. Just don't do it again."

"I won't."

"And Mr. Todd, I don't mean this to be offensive, but you're close to forty, right?"

Sweeney nodded. "39."

"You might have a harder time with this pregnancy because of your age. Having a child at 23 is usually less stressful on the body than having one at 39. I'm not saying it's definite, but please let me know if you have any problems, because we'll probably have to watch you more closely."

"Alright."

"Good. Now, if you don't mind, please tell Anthony to come in when he wakes up."

"Will do."

Sweeney was just about to leave, when the doctor spoke up again.

"And Mr. Todd? There's garbage bags in the kitchen. You should start picking up that TP while it's light outside."

Sweeney rolled his eyes, but the doctor didn't see it. "Yeah, yeah, okay. You win," He said, going to get the bags. "Stupid caffeine crash, making us get caught."

Anthony remained asleep until the early afternoon, when Sweeney got tired of picking up toilet paper by himself and woke him up. By that point, he was feeling a little better at least, and thus wasn't in a terrible mood.

"Come on, butthead." Sweeney sat down on Anthony's legs. "We need to finish cleaning the yard. I'm not doing it all myself."

"Fuck off." Anthony replied groggily, sitting up.

"And the doctor needs to speak to you today, too."

"Great," Anthony muttered. "Can't wait to see what he has in store."

It took Sweeney and Anthony about three hours to dispose of all of the TP they'd thrown around in the yard. There was a lot of it. Looking back, Anthony was kind of surprised that they had been able to accomplish so much coverage, even with all the caffeine.

When they finished cleaning, Anthony headed over to Dr. Schnabel's office, wanting to get his visit over with.

The doctor immediately let him in, closing the door as he'd done when Sweeney had visited.

"What'd you want?" Anthony asked, not even bothering to sit down. He wanted to get in and out as soon as possible.

"Well, I ran your blood, and… Well, I may as well get right to the point. We screen for pregnancy as part of it, and your test came back positive."

Anthony's mouth dropped open. "You have got to be kidding me."

"Have you had unprotected sex in the past month or two?" The doctor asked, maintaining his professional demeanor.

For once, Anthony blushed.

"Well, no… I'm a virgin. Me and Johanna… We've been seeing each other for a year now… I mean, we're waiting until marriage to do anything…"

The doctor wrote something down. "I believe you are about a month pregnant. Do you have anywhere to stay for the time being?"

"I can stay with Johanna."

"And you can afford pre-natal care?"

Anthony bit his lip. "That might be a problem. We're kind of living in the 'hood, about as broke as crack addicts because I have a really shitty job right now with no benefits, so all of our money goes to rent and food, not to mention that we don't really trust government healthcare."

"You are welcome to come here for medical care, than. Free of charge. And, if for some reason it doesn't work out with your girlfriend, then you may stay here."

"Thanks. Fucking hell, of all things…"

"It will work out," The doctor reassured him.

"I'm sure it will, it's just… well, I guess one is never prepared for a baby. At least Johanna will be thrilled. She's been talking about having children for a while now… I just thought we'd be a bit older. I suppose this means we'll have to get married."

"You do whatever you need and want to do. Now, have you had any symptoms that, knowing that you're pregnant now, could be associated with it?"

"I've been throwin' up in the mornings occasionally, but it's every couple days and it doesn't last that long."

"Okay. In the next few months the morning sickness may become more intense, and you may experience other symptoms as well. Cravings, hot flashes, swollen feet and ankles… I'll schedule you for an appointment a month from now, but feel free to call with any questions in the meantime."

"Great. Thank you," Anthony said. "I guess I should go tell Mr. Todd, then."

"Good luck with that," The doctor mumbled, knowing that Sweeney was Johanna's father.

"What was that?" Anthony asked.

"Uh, nothing. I'll see you later," The doctor replied.

"Oh. Okay."

Anthony left, closing the door gently behind him. He walked to the common room and found Sweeney sitting on the sofa, eating potato chips.

'Might as well get this over with,' The blonde thought to himself.

"Mr. T," Anthony said, looking Sweeney directly in the eyes.

"Anthony," Munch munch munch. "Whazzup?" He answered, shoving another handful of chips in his mouth.

"I'm… well, the doctor says I'm pregnant."

Sweeney dropped the bag of chips.

"Pregnant." He repeated.

"Yeah, you know, knocked up, up the duff, have a bun in the oven…"

"I suppose it is Johanna's child, then?" Sweeney asked, his face turning even paler than usual.

"No, actually..."

"Then whose..." Sweeney stopped talking when he saw how absolutely miserable Anthony looked.

"Turpin... About a month ago, he... He caught up with me, and... well..." Anthony looked like he was about to cry.

Sweeney clenched his fists. "I see."

"…I just wanted to tell you, since it means we won't really be able to do as many crazy shenanigans together any more. Can't be drinking cases of Monster if I'm pregnant."

Sweeney nodded slowly, feeling angry and defeated all at once. He wished he could make Turpin pay for this. For picking on the innocent. In his condition, though...

An angry look came across his face, but Anthony couldn't help but smirk a bit, because Sweeney had also picked up the bag of chips and began munching on them again.

"I understand. I'm in a similar situation, actually."

For the second time that day, Anthony's mouth dropped open. "You're pregnant, too?"

"Yes. A bit more than a month along. I'm going to stay here for the duration of my pregnancy."

"I'm about a month and a half… I suppose I'll see you around, because I'll be coming here for medical care."

"Good, good."

There was an awkward silence, with the exception of Sweeney loudly chewing on more potato chips.

"I should be going," Anthony finally said. "I need to talk to Johanna. Good luck settling in here. I'll see you soon."

Sweeney shook his head, "Thank you. Good luck with… Johanna… Let me know how it goes, please."

Anthony raised an eyebrow. "I will."

"Great."

"Okay, Mr. Todd. I'll see you later, then."


	13. Chapter 13

******A/N: Phish Tacko beta'd this. Go check out her page, she's an awesome author!**

**Chapter 13**

Dr. Schnabel had set Sweeney up with a small bedroom across the hall from Mort. He had a feeling that Sweeney was going to be one of the more aggressive residents, so, like Mort, he thought it might be best not to pair him with a roommate.

"This is your room," The doctor said, opening the door to the tiny place. It was painted sea foam green and had a tiny, single bed next to a window, along with a small bureau, a full-length mirror, and a writing desk with a computer on it. "Rest for a bit, and then I can get you a cab to go back to your shop and get any possessions you may need."

Sweeney considered this for a moment. He had his precious razors on him. He always carried them. That was really all he needed. "I don't need to do that," He said. "I'm good."

"So you don't have any personal possessions you'd like to bring over? Don't you have more clothes you can wear?" The doctor asked, a bit surprised. Everyone, except Edward, had gone back to get at least _some_ things from their last residences. The only reason Edward hadn't was because he literally had nothing.

Sweeney shook his head 'no'.

"I'll lend you some clothes, then, so you can be more comfortable. I'm sure some of the other residents would be willing to donate some of their older things for the time being, too, if you don't have money to buy new clothes."

"Okay."

"I'll be right back, then."

The doctor returned a moment later with a maroon shirt that read 'Leonard: The Man, The Myth, The Legend', and a pair of black sweat pants.

Sweeney couldn't help but laugh at the shirt. "The legend, eh?"

"I gave Jack a lot of my old shirts," The doctor said. "Of course, you can keep your own clothes, if you like."

Sweeney walked over to the mirror and looked himself over. His waistcoat was starting to get a little tight, but whether it was from the pregnancy or the fact that he was constantly hungry, he wasn't sure.

"Yeah, okay," He said, taking the shirt and pants. "Thanks."

"I'll leave you to get comfortable. Dinner's served at 6. We eat together in the dining area."

"Okay."

"See you then."

"Yeah, see you then."

00

As Sweeney was getting settled into his new room, Sam was freaking the fuck out downstairs. He'd been watching a movie in the common room, when Ichabod had walked through and just passed out a few feet away from the television.

When he'd first seen the constable fall, Sam had thought maybe he was playing some type of odd joke, but when he didn't get back up for a few seconds, Sam got worried. This wasn't normal. He walked over to Ichabod as fast as possible, and knelt down as best he could next to him, an act that wasn't as easy at it'd been a few months ago.

"Ichabod!" He shook the man as hard as he could. "Wake up!"

Nothing.

"Come on," Sam whispered, rubbing Ichabod's arms as hard as he could. "Wake up."

Again, nothing.

Finally, Sam got to his last resort. He smacked Ichabod across the face. That seemed to get the dark haired man up.

"Huh? What...?" Ichabod asked, slowly opening his eyes. He squinted as Sam came into focus. "What happened?"

Sam grabbed Ichabod's hands and helped him up as best as he could. "You were just walking and you fainted! Come lie down!" He was still worried.

Ichabod slowly followed him over to the sofa and laid down, gently rubbing the back of his head where he'd hit it when he'd fallen.

"Ugh…" He sighed.

"Just relax. I'm going to go get the doctor," Sam said, hurrying out of the room. He found Dr. Schnabel upstairs with Sweeney.

"Doctor!" He called, getting both Schnabel and Sweeney's attention. "You need to come downstairs! Ichabod fainted!"

"Oh! Okay," The doctor said, quickly following Sam down the stairs. "Is he still unconscious?"

"No, I was able to wake him up, but you need to check him."

Dr. Schnabel and Sam got back to the common room pretty fast, where they found Ichabod still laying down and still rubbing the back of his head.

"Ichabod," The doctor knelt down next to the couch. "What happened?"

"I don't know," Ichabod answered, shaking his head. That just made him hurt more and he tried not to groan. "I was just... walking, and then I started seeing black spots... The room started spinning, and before I could sit down...I just remember everything going black."

Dr. Schnabel nodded, "Let me see if you're injured." He gently moved Ichabod's hand away from his head, helped him sit up, and pushed back his dark hair. There was a small bump on the back of his head, and what looked like a bruise forming on his scalp, but neither were severe. Still, ice would probably help.

"Sam, will you please get an ice pack from the kitchen?" The doctor asked.

"Sure," Sam replied, immediately heading over to get it. He returned seconds later, obviously trying to help as fast as he could.

The doctor held the ice pack behind Ichabod's head, and eased him back to laying down.

"Just lay down and keep this ice on. It'll keep the swelling down. Has this type of thing happened before?"

Ichabod shrugged slightly, "Yes... a few times in the past, but usually just when something's scared me. It's quite... Well, it's embarrassing."

"Hmm. But you weren't spooked when this happened now. Makes me think there's some other underlying cause. Have you eaten today?"

"Yes."

"Breakfast and lunch?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Sometimes low blood sugar causes dizziness. If you're eating enough, that would be unlikely though. I'm thinking it might be poor circulation, or maybe even anemia. Tomorrow morning I'd like to take some blood and run some tests," Schnabel said.

Ichabod paled a little. He hated needles, but he agreed anyway.

"Don't worry, it won't be too painful," The doctor said, half smiling in a reassuring manner.

Ichabod swallowed nervously, not fully believing him. "If it's necessary..."

"For now, like I said, just rest. Sam, are you going to be here for a while?"

"Yeah, I was watching a movie."

"Can you stay with Ichabod, then? Get him anything he might need, or come get me to get it."

"Yes, absolutely," Sam replied, eager to help.

"Good. Thank you, Sam," The doctor said.

Ichabod glanced over at Sam, and quietly thanked him too.

"Of course," Sam answered, "It's not a problem. Anything for a friend."

00

"So, what are we watching?" Ichabod asked, after trying to decipher what was on and failing.

"My Big Fat Greek Wedding. It's on TNT and it's kind of cute."

Ichabod smiled. "I didn't peg you as the romantic comedy type."

"It sort of reminds me of how Joon and I will get married soon. Well, if she accepts my proposal, of course."

"I'm sure she will."

"I feel like we would have an outdoor wedding," Sam continued, grinning at the thought of marrying his love. "I would like to get married in the spring, and maybe the minister of our church can do the ceremony. It would be nice to do that in the garden outside the church maybe... somewhere nice. If the weather's bad, I'm sure we can move it inside."

"Won't it be a little hot to be standing outside while you're eight months pregnant?" Ichabod asked. "Not to throw a monkey wrench in your plans or anything. Just saying."

"I actually didn't think about that," Sam answered. "Maybe we can have it in the church itself then."

"Do you have a lot of family to invite?"

"We both have a decent amount of people who'd probably like to come. And of course I'd invite all of you guys here," Sam said. "I just have to find a place for us to have the reception. We don't have much money and what we do have, I'd prefer to put towards things for the baby."

"Fair enough. I remember when Katrina and I were married..." Ichabod reminisced. "It really was the happiest day of my life, promising to be with her forever..." He trailed off.

"I'm sorry it didn't work out," Sam said, frowning.

"I guess it wasn't meant to be. It was a beautiful wedding, though. Small but nice. Katrina looked stunning, in her white dress... I remember she had little white flowers woven into her hair, too."

"She sounds beautiful."

"She is. She's perfect. At least to me. I guess I just.. really thought she was 'the one'... I'm sorry, this has to be bumming you out."

Sam shrugged. "If it helps you to talk about it, then I don't mind."

"It's just nice to think of happier times, is all."

"There will be other happy times in the future, Ichabod. Think about when your little baby will be born, and how much love you'll have for them, and how they'll always love you too."

Ichabod smiled a little. "You're right."

"So, I'm thinking I might give her my grandma's ring," Sam continued, picking right back up on his little tangent. "It's not big and it's not a perfect diamond but it means a lot to me and I think she'd appreciate it."

"I'm sure Joon will love whatever engagement ring you choose."

"I hope so. And then I have to get her a wedding ring, too. And one for me. And wow, that's going to cost a lot."

"You can always just get cheap silver ones for now and later on when you have more money get nicer ones, and wear the old ones on a necklace or on your other hand."

"Yeah, I'd always want to keep the original ones, even if they were cheap, they'd mean a lot. Oh, and maybe I can read a Bible passage at the wedding as part of my vows. Maybe 1 Corinthians 13: 4-8. I like that one."

"I think I know that one."

"It's gonna be great."

"I'm sure. I'm happy for you, Sam."

"I'm happy for me too," Sam agreed.


	14. Chapter 14

******A/N: Phish Tacko beta'd this. Go check out her page, she's an awesome author!**

**Chapter 14**

A couple hours later and it was dinner time. Ichabod was still resting, so Dr. Schnabel brought him and Sam food to eat in the common room, while everyone else gathered in the dining area. It was the second time everyone met Sweeney.

The meal instantly got off on the wrong foot when Sweeney, who was one of the first to grab at the food, despite being the newest one there, accidentally dropped a piece of meatloaf on Mort's lap, staining the only pair of jeans that Mort had left that still fit.

"Hey, dumbass," Mort said, picking up the food and putting it on Sweeney's plate, "Watch what you're doing."

"Sorry…"

Everyone eyed Sweeney, wondering what the guy's problem was. However, they all kept silent for a while... That is, until Gilbert noticed that Sweeney was looking at Edward's scissors again.

Edward seemed very uncomfortable having someone stare at him, so Gilbert spoke up.

"Hey, man, you know it's not polite to stare at people," He said, looking Sweeney in the eyes. He wasn't afraid of this guy, no matter how weird he seemed.

"His hands are interesting," Sweeney replied, looking right back at Gilbert.

"Well find some other 'interesting' thing to look at. You're being rude."

"Sorry."

Edward blushed, embarrassed at causing this problem, even if he hadn't actually done anything to bring extra attention to himself. "It's okay... I know I'm weird-looking," He mumbled, not wanting there to be an argument because of him.

Gilbert looked like he was about to say something, but ended up keeping quiet. It was probably just better to try to keep the peace.

There was an awkward silence until near the end of the meal. Since he was sitting next to Jack, and there were no more French fries for him to take from the plate they'd been served on, Sweeney reached over and plucked one from the pirate's plate.

"OI!" Jack yelled, slapping Sweeney's hand away, "What the hell?"

Sweeney slowly moved his hand back, not saying anything.

"Wow…" Mort just shook his head, watching the whole thing.

"Now, let's not fight. Mr. Todd, you're a grown man. You should know better than that. If you're still hungry there's other food you can get in the kitchen."

"Okay…" was all Sweeney replied.

The doctor couldn't help but roll his eyes, "Please. Act. Like. An. Adult."

Maybe it was the stress of moving to a new place, maybe it was the fact that he'd hardly had any sleep for the past 36 hours, or maybe it was the hormones coursing through his body, but the doctor's harmless statement just pushed Sweeney over the edge. He wanted to scream, cry, and hit things all at once for some reason. He stood up from the table, pushed his chair back into place and walked away, up to his room.

Wonka spoke what was on everyone's minds a second later.

"Well, this is going to be fun."

00

Sweeney had gone to bed very shortly after marching upstairs. He was exhausted. It'd been a long day and he was sure that being exhausted didn't help his mood much.

He slept in late enough to miss breakfast. A few people had voiced concerns over it, wondering where he was or if maybe something bad had happened to him– people cared, even if they didn't necessarily like him– so Gilbert volunteered as Tribute to go up and make sure that the barber was still alive.

As the redhead was walking up the stairs, he could hear what sounded like a short, tortured scream from below, followed by a THUMP. It only took him a second to figure out what it was: Ichabod had gone to get blood taken and the needle had probably scared him and made him faint. Gilbert's mind brought up a reference to those fainting goats. It made him laugh a little, though he knew that the constable would probably never appreciate such a comparison.

Soon enough, Gilbert was outside of Sweeney's room, anyway, and his thoughts turned to what he might find in there. He took a deep breath, and braced himself for the worst before heading in.

As soon as he walked in, he could clearly see Sweeney lying on the bed, one arm draped over the side, his hand nearly hitting the floor. The barber also had his face buried in his pillow.

Gilbert looked to see if he could tell if Sweeney was breathing, but if he was, his chest was rising and falling so slightly that Gilbert couldn't see it. He figured he'd have to check his pulse, just to be safe.

Gilbert knelt down next to Sweeney, and lifted his arm. He had just placed two fingers on Sweeney's wrist when he heard a voice.

"Dude... what are you doing?"

Sweeney was awake, and staring at him, slightly confused. Gilbert stood back up.

"We weren't sure if you were dead."

"Wow," Sweeney said, stretching out, "You guys are weird. Can't even deal with a man sleeping for..." He looked at the clock on his dresser. "Eleven and a half hours."

Gilbert shrugged. "Better safe than sorry."

Sweeney yawned, and got out of bed, stretching once again. "Did I miss breakfast?"

"Yeah. We ate about half an hour ago."

"Aw, damn. Well, I'm in the mood for Denny's anyway. Wanna come?"

Gilbert raised an eyebrow. "How are we going to get there?"

"In my car. Obviously."

"You have a car here?"

"How do you think Anthony and I got here to TP everything? Of course I have a car. And I put amazing rims on it, too."

"Did I hear someone say 'Denny's'?" came a voice from the other room. It was Mort.

"Yeah, you want in?"

"Fuck yes I do," Mort yelled back.

The three of them stepped outside a few minutes later, Sweeney having said that he'd mentioned that they were leaving to Dr. Schnabel, but no one else. Sweeney didn't really want a crowd. He wanted to eat his Bacon Slamburger in peace.

Sweeney pointed to a red Toyota Camry that was parked half up on the curb. It did, in fact, have nice rims and no dents, but the rest of it looked like crap. Gilbert called shotgun, and Mort sat in the back. Both nearly jumped out of their skin when Sweeney started the car, and "Party Like A Rock Star" started blasting at from the speakers.

"WHAT THE FUCK?" Mort yelled.

"WHAT?" Sweeney answered, unable to hear him.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS WITH THIS MUSIC?"

"WHAT? I CAN'T HEAR YOU. SHUT UP SO WE CAN GO TO DENNY'S."

And so, the rest of the drive was spent in silence, with the exception of the various rap songs that were playing.

They pulled up to a Denny's about fifteen minutes later, and everyone got out of the car. A waitress with way too much makeup and a cigarette hanging out of her mouth greeted them, and sat them down at a dirty table.

"This is disgusting," Gilbert said, running a finger across the dirty table top.

Sweeney shrugged. "The Bacon Slamburger is worth it."

"Should you really be eating that?" Gilbert asked. "I mean, it's not particularly healthy."

"Since when is it your business what I eat?" Sweeney replied, obviously annoyed.

"I'm just saying, it might not be good to eat like that if you're going to have a baby... Oh, never mind."

"Never get between a man and his bacon cheeseburger," Mort advised the redhead.

Gilbert rolled his eyes, but said nothing.

The waitress came back soon enough to take their orders. Sweeney, of course, had his beloved Bacon Slamburger, Gilbert had a cup of tea, and Mort ordered a banana split with tuna salad on the side.

When the food came, Sweeney immediately dove into the cheese fries that came with his meal, while Mort started mixing vanilla ice cream and tuna.

"You want some?" He asked, sliding the bowl towards Gilbert.

The redhead paled a little. He had had a bad feeling about the horrid mixture. "No thanks..."

Mort shrugged and took the bowl back. "More for me."

Gilbert watched as Mort and Sweeney shoveled food into their mouths at record speed.

"You two were made to be friends, you know that?" He noted.

"We were?" Sweeney asked between bites.

"Yeah, you were. You're both pretty rude and you both eat at an insanely fast pace. You're both fairly anti-social, too, not to mention the general weirdness that you both have. You should get along perfectly."

Mort and Sweeney looked at each other.

"Maybe," Mort said, finishing the last of his tuna-sundae.

Sweeney just shrugged and finished his food.

00

The shelter was in chaos by the time the three got back home.

"Where were you?" Sam asked, soon as he saw Gilbert walk through the door. "We were all worried!"

"We went to Denny's. Dr. Schnabel knew. Sorry we didn't mention it to you."

"I knew nothing of this," The doctor said as he walked past the doorway.

Both Gilbert and Mort turned to Sweeney, who was just standing there.

"I thought you told Dr. Schnabel we were leaving?" Mort asked.

"Well…" Sweeney started. "I kind of maybe didn't. I really, really just wanted to get out."

"You have to tell us if you intend to leave," The doctor said sternly. "We were all very worried about what might've happened. Considering that I provide you with shelter, food, and medical care all free of charge, the least you can do is notify me when you leave the premises."

For the first time since he'd come, Sweeney seemed to show remorse. "I'm sorry," He mumbled, looking kind of like a little kid that was scolded for misbehaving.

"Just don't do it again. I have to get back to Ichabod. He was just waking up. Poor man fainted when I drew blood. And your friend Anthony's coming over tonight, by the way. He wanted to visit, so I invited him to eat with us."


	15. Chapter 15

******A/N: Phish Tacko beta'd this. Go check out her page, she's an awesome author!**

**Chapter 15**

Anthony arrived around 6 that night, with Johanna in tow. Both of them were beaming, and she was happily showing off the engagement ring Anthony had given her. It wasn't a typical engagement ring; instead of a diamond, it had an emerald. Sweeney briefly wondered where Anthony had come up with the money for it, but he didn't ask because he thought it might upset Johanna, and this was a time for her to be happy and he wanted her to enjoy it.

"How did he propose?" Sam asked as he looked over Johanna's ring.

Sweeney smirked as he noticed how attentive Sam was being to the whole situation. He wondered if the boy was taking notes on how to propose to his own girlfriend.

"He made a nice dinner for us, lit some candles, and at the end, he asked me to marry him," Johanna gushed. "It was very romantic."

Anthony smiled at her, and leaned in to give her a kiss.

"So you agree to raise Anthony's child together with him?" Sweeney asked.

"Of course. I'll love him or her just as if they were my own," Johanna replied, completely seriously. "We wanted children one day anyway."

Everyone sat down to dinner soon after Johanna and Anthony came in. Ichabod sat on one side of the couple, and Sweeney on the other. The constable couldn't help but notice how lovey-dovey Anthony and Johanna were. It gave him several different feelings: happiness, at seeing two young people so completely in love. Jealousy, because his wife hadn't stayed with him, and sadness, to an extent, for the same reason. Dr. Schnabel had suggested that Ichabod and Katrina go to marriage counseling, and the whole thing made him think that perhaps it would be a good idea.

Dinner progressed, as per usual, with Mort letting Buster on the table to eat, Wonka giving the cat dirty looks, and Sweeney randomly filching bits of people's food.

"So," Sweeney asked, as the plates were being cleared. "Do you guys want to do something tonight? Perhaps drive around town for a bit?" He was, of course, referring to causing mischief somewhere, but he didn't want to outright say it.

Anthony frowned. "Come on, Mr. Todd, you know we both can't be doing that type of stuff anymore. We've got to be careful of the babies!"

Sweeney sighed. "Well, what CAN we do?"

"You can watch Star Trek Season 2 with me and Jack later," Mort offered.

"Yeah, that sounds fun," Sweeney replied sarcastically.

"Sam and Ichabod and I were going to play Scrabble later," Wonka said. "You can join us if you like."

"Uh, doesn't anyone here do ANYTHING else besides watch the television and play board games?" Sweeney asked.

"Considering most of us are at least four months pregnant, there's not much else we can do. We're not going to endanger our children's lives by taking stupid risks and running around town," Ichabod said, annoyed at Sweeney's attitude.

"Well, then." Sweeney glared at the constable. He was starting to feel angry again. Stupid mood swings.

"Hey," The doctor said, resting a hand on Sweeney's shoulder "Why don't you go relax for a bit. I think you're getting upset for no real reason."

Sweeney scowled at him, but knew that the doctor was right. "Fine. I'm going to go lie down, because I'm pregnant and therefore cannot do anything anymore."

Anthony stopped him right after he left the room. "Mr. Todd... Don't be too upset."

Sweeney shook his head. "This sucks. We can't do anything anymore. Life as I know it is basically over."

"That's a shit attitude to have, Mr. Todd, and you know it."

Sweeney sighed again, this time, looking more sad than angry. "I'm just going to go lie down, okay? I'll see you later. Tell Johanna I said congratulations again."

"Feel better," Anthony replied.

Sweeney nodded and shuffled off, once again closing the door to his room behind him.

"Maybe one of us should go talk to him?" Sam suggested, after Sweeney had left.

"Not me!" Jack yelled.

"No way," Mort said.

Ichabod just shook his head 'no'.

Sam turned to Wonka.

"Uh, no," The chocolatier replied. "He's creepy."

"Edward?" Sam asked.

"I'd rather not…" Edward answered.

"You should go up," Gilbert suggested. "You're really nice and people seem to like you."

Sam considered this for a moment. "Alright, I guess I'll go."

Sam got up from the table and slowly made his way upstairs. Sweeney always unnerved him a little, but he knew he was probably doing the right thing by talking to him.

When he got to Sweeney's room, he noticed that the door was closed. He knocked on it gently.

"Mr. Todd? Are you in there?" He asked gingerly.

"Fuck off," came Sweeney's reply.

"It's Sam. I just wanted to talk to you for a few minutes… I promise I won't yell at you, or anything."

There was a sigh from inside the room. Finally, Sam heard footsteps coming towards the door. Sweeney unlocked it and opened it slightly. Sam walked in.

Sweeney had gone back to sitting on his bed barefoot, back up against the bed frame. He was holding his knees up to his chest and was slowly rocking back and forth. To Sam, he looked vulnerable, to some degree. That in itself kind of weirded him out. He couldn't imagine Sweeney Todd being vulnerable.

"What'd you want?" Sweeney asked, quite obviously annoyed at Sam's intrusion.

"I just wanted to make sure you were alright. You don't seem okay."

"I'm just fine," Sweeney answered. "I'm just tired of not being able to do anything."

"You could go watch Star Trek or play Scrabble later," Sam suggested.

"Besides the fact that both of those options are, in my opinion, incredibly lame, I doubt that anyone would actually want me tagging along with them."

Sam frowned. "You think that nobody likes you?"

"It's obvious. Though I admit, I don't do much to help it."

"You should be nicer, then. Everyone just gets annoyed, is all. And it's not good to take other people's food. I think that makes people mad. If you're just a little nicer, then people would be nicer to you."

"I'll try… It's hard, though. I have a lot of problems that aren't so easy to overcome."

"What kind of problems?" Sam asked, taking a seat on the edge of Sweeney's bed.

"Just… life hasn't exactly been kind to me. I lost my family to an evil man; I lost my freedom for over a decade… some of the things I had to endure in that prison were terrible." He trailed off, staring at the wall.

Sam wondered if maybe Sweeney was having a flashback of some type.

"Are you okay?"

"I was just thinking about when I was pregnant with Johanna. Another inmate had… Well, he cornered me… And then he raped me. It took weeks for the bruises to heal and it was… It was a few months before I realized that I wasn't just sick, and of course, they had no medical system to help… when it came time to have her I just... I stayed in the cell, on the floor. My cellmates were throwing things and yelling obscenities at me… and the blood… Oh, there was so much blood…"

"Oh my Lord… that's terrible!" Sam replied, eyes wide.

"Then they took her. I only held her for a few moments before the guards took her. When I came back to England, I was able to locate her, but found that my wife was gone… dead. She'd killed herself. And Johanna still doesn't know that I'm her father."

Sam took a deep breath. "Mr. Todd… All of that would mess anyone up. And I know I can't understand how you feel because I've never had any of that happen to me. But… you have to begin to learn to let it go. What's the point in wasting the rest of your life by filling it with anger and hate? What's done is done. No one can go back and fix what happened to you, but it's your choice whether you want to continue to be miserable or not."

"I know you're right, but it's easier said than done."

"First step would be realizing that everyone here would be happy to be friends with you, if you're willing to show them a little respect. Maybe no one showed you respect in the past, but these people here have done nothing to you."

Sweeney just sighed.

"Take it slow," Sam continued. "Maybe try to spend an hour a day being nice. Try at dinner time for instance. You'll see how people will react, since they all invited you to their events, even with your attitude, that says something. And once you have some new friends, I'm sure you'll be happier."

"Okay…"

"And I'll be here for you if you EVER, ever need to talk."

"Thank you, Sam," Sweeney said. "I guess I'll give it a shot."


	16. Chapter 16

******A/N: Phish Tacko beta'd this. Go check out her page, she's an awesome author!**

**Chapter 16**

The entire evening and morning after, Ichabod considered seeing if Katrina would go to marriage counseling. It was a drastic step, though, in his opinion, so rather than jumping right into it, he figured it might be a good idea to get some ideas on how counseling actually worked.

And who better to learn about therapy from than Dr. Phil?

So, the following afternoon, Ichabod was planted in front of the television, watching as Dr. Phil talked to a bunch of morbidly obese housewives whose kids and spouses wanted them to lose weight.

"You need to set times to work out together," Dr. Phil said. "And get that corn cob out of your mouth. Damn it, we're on live TV!" He yelled, at one of the obese women.

Ichabod ignored the last part and took his notebook out. _Do things together_, he wrote down.

Jack wandered into the room about half way through the show.

"Dr. Phil?" He asked Ichabod, raising an eyebrow.

"He gives good life advice."

"Hm. Can I join you?"

"Sure," Ichabod replied, moving over so Jack could have some space.

Mort came in soon after. "We're watching Dr. Phil?" He asked.

"SHHHHHH!" came a reply from both Jack and Ichabod.

"That fat lady in the corner's going to have a breakthrough any second now!" Jack said.

"Okay, okay." Mort took a seat on the other couch, and began watching the television.

Sam, Gilbert, Wonka, Sweeney and Edward came in about ten minutes before the show ended. They were hoping to get the TV after everyone else was done with it. Adventure Time with Finn and Jake would be on soon!

As the credits for Dr. Phil were rolling, Ichabod noticed something out of the corner of his eye. A big, black, nasty-looking spider was making its way through the common room.

"AHHHH!" He yelled, pulling his feet up onto the couch.

"What-…?" Mort asked, looking around. Then he saw the spider, too. "HOLY CRAP! KILL IT!" He jumped up onto the recliner.

Sweeney had a wide-eyed expression of horror on his face, while Edward was just staring at the arachnid. Sam and Gilbert had already left to go get Dr. Schnabel.

The doctor appeared in the room just as the spider was getting close to the couch that Ichabod and Jack were on. The poor constable looked like he was about to have a heart attack, and Jack was curled up in the fetal position, trying to get as far away from the spider as possible.

"KILL IT!" Mort yelled again, pointing at the spider. "KILL IT WITH FIRE!"

The doctor rolled his eyes, but walked over and squashed the spider with his shoe.

"There," He said, taking a step back. There were now spider guts all over the floor, but at least the thing was dead.

But, it was still too much for Ichabod, who took one look at the mangled arachnid, and threw up on the floor before fainting back onto the couch.

"Eww!" came a collective groan from the entire group.

"Go get the sawdust," The doctor said. "And someone lay him down, for goodness sake. Don't just leave him there on the couch like that."

There was another sigh and the sound of movement as Gilbert, Sam, and Jack all moved to either get sawdust or lay Ichabod down.

00

Sweeney hadn't stuck around much longer after Ichabod had been sick. He'd actually started feeling kind of sick himself. It was a combination of feeling nauseated and dizzy, but it wasn't overly severe. Just enough for him to want to lie down for a while.

After about an hour of lying in bed, in the dark, with an ice pack on his head, Sweeney start to feel better. Both symptoms were gone. This was the third time in the past week he'd felt something like this, but he didn't want to make a big deal out of it. He was pregnant and almost 40, after all. His body surely wouldn't be as strong as it was with his last pregnancy. Sweeney just hoped that the bouts of sickness stopped soon.

Besides this problem, Sweeney noticed that he was already starting to show. His belly was starting to stick out, even though he wasn't even at two months.

'Stupid body,' He thought to himself. He hadn't started showing until he had been over four months pregnant with Johanna. 'Stupid aging,' He added mentally. 'Stupid slowing metabolism.'

The list of 'stupid' things went on for a while, until finally being interrupted by Buster, who'd come into the room, gracefully jumped up on the bed, and curled up in Sweeney's hair.

'Well, at least the cat seems to like me.'


	17. Chapter 17

******A/N: Phish Tacko beta'd this. Go check out her page, she's an awesome author!**

**Chapter 17**

Early the next morning, most of the shelter was woken up by Jack, who was running around frantically trying to find Dr. Schnabel. Edward was having false contractions again, but this time, they seemed to be ten times worse.

He'd finally managed to locate Dr. Schnabel, who had been sleeping peacefully, but not before the majority of the shelter's occupants had wandered out of their rooms to see what the commotion was.

The doctor, who still appeared to be very tired, followed Jack through the crowd of people and back into his room. Both men were surprised to see Wonka, of all people, sitting on the bed next to Edward, gently smoothing his hair back. The younger man looked to be crying, but not loudly. It was kind of weird, because Wonka was probably the most non-touchy-feely person that any of the occupants knew.

"Shh… It'll be okay," Wonka cooed, cupping Edward's face with his hand. "Look, the doctor is here now. He'll take care of you."

Edward sniffled and nodded, and Wonka moved back to give Dr. Schnabel room to get in.

"Hey Edward," The doctor said calmly. He sat down next to Edward on the bed. "Tell me what's going on."

Edward opened his mouth slightly, but no words came out. He seemed to be in too much pain to talk.

"He was moaning for a few hours and tossing around," Jack offered.

"Okay. Does your stomach hurt again? Nod yes or no," The doctor instructed.

Edward nodded 'yes' ever so slightly, and more tears began to fall down his cheeks.

"I think it's the false contractions again, but I need to do an exam. Do you think you could walk down the hall to my office, Edward?"

Edward thought for a second before nodding his head 'yes' again.

"All right. I'm going to help you, though, okay? And Jack will help as well. Can you do that, Jack?" The doctor would've asked Willy, as he seemed to be concerned about Edward, but Willy was so far along that he didn't think it would be wise to ask him to help carry the weight of a fully grown person.

"Sure," The pirate replied.

"On the count of three I'm going to help you sit up," The doctor told Edward. "One... two..." He reached behind Edward's back and pulled him into a sitting position. Edward groaned.

"I'm going to help you off of the bed, and then I'm going to get on your right side and Jack will get on your left side and we'll walk together."

Edward said nothing, just continued crying, so Dr. Schnabel and Jack set to work on getting him up.

It took several minutes to get down the hallway, with Edward quietly asking his helpers to stop every few feet. When they finally got into Dr. Schnabel's office, they both helped him onto a bed.

"Thanks for your help, Jack," The doctor said, pulling a chair up near the bed. "You can go now. I'm sure Edward will be fine."

"Okay," Jack said, turning to leave. "Feel better, Eddie."

Edward just groaned softly in reply.

The exam showed that Dr. Schnabel had been right, but only to an extent. Yes, Edward was having false contractions again, but one of the twins was positioned in such a way that their entire weight was on Edward's pelvis. That's why he was hurting so badly. The problem was that there wasn't much that the doctor could do about it besides treat Edward's pain and hope that the baby would move.

Thus, when Wonka, Sam, and Jack all went to visit Edward later on, they found him to be quite loopy from the Vicodin that Dr. Schnabel had given him.

"Hey, Edward, how are you feeling?" Sam asked, pulling a chair up next to the bed that Edward was lying on.

Edward simply snipped his scissor-hands slowly, watching them as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world.

"Good..." He finally replied. He looked up for a second and began staring at Sam instead of his hands. "I feel good..."

"Did the doctor give you medicine?" Wonka asked. He noticed that Edward's file was lying on the counter, and picked it up, flipping to the last page. "Ah... it says he gave you some Vicodin."

"It makes me feel all fuzzy," Edward said, smiling. Then he started to giggle for no real reason. "Fuzzy..." He repeated, laughing again.

Jack smirked. "Wow, those must be some hella strong drugs."

"Jack?" Edward said softly, turning to his roommate.

"Yes?"

"Why are you a pirate? Is it 'cause you like the flag, with the skull and crossbones?"

"The flag is great, but it's more than that. I've always had a love for the sea, just seemed like the place I wanted to spend my time. Lootin' places and ships and getting lots of treasure doesn't hurt either."

Edward just stared at Jack blankly, Jack's explanation having been too much for his drug-addled mind.

"I like the flag," He whispered, laughing a little bit again.

"I'm glad you're feeling better," Wonka said, getting a bit closer to Edward. "We were all worried about you."

"My stomach doesn't hurt anymore," Edward stated, "But thank you for caring!" Then there was more giggling.

Suddenly, Edward yawned, and started to look tired.

"Are you sleepy?" Wonka asked, a little surprised by the total change in Edward's demeanor.

Edward nodded, and started trying to pull the covers up further on himself, snipping at the edges of the comforter. Seeing that he was getting nowhere, Wonka pulled the blankets further up on the young man, effectively tucking him in. Edward smiled at him, and rested his arms at his sides.

"Go to sleep," Wonka said, watching as Edward tried to stifle another yawn. As he had earlier that morning, Wonka pushed some of Edward's unruly hair out of his eyes.

"I like sleep..." Edward agreed, his eyes half shut.

Everyone was silently walking out of the room when they heard Edward's soft voice once again.

"I love you all," He said. "Thank you for always being so nice to me."

00

While Edward was busy being the most adorable thing that Sam, Wonka, and Jack had seen in a while, Ichabod was being quite possibly the most annoying.

"Dr. Phil says that you need to 'Be, Do, and Have'. Be committed, do what it takes, and you'll have what you want," Ichabod explained to Gilbert that night, as they talked over finances. Gilbert was a little worried about how he'd be able to pay for everything once the baby was born.

"Uh, thanks," The redhead said, not really sure how else to reply. Really, he'd just wanted someone to listen to him.

"Dr. Phil also says that money problems aren't solved with money, so if you have unrealistic expectations and a sense of entitlement, you'll just end up in more debt."

"Okay," Gilbert replied.

"Dr. Phil also says-"

"Okay, stop with the Dr. Phil quotes," Gilbert snapped. "It's really aggravating. Why are you watching so much of that crap, anyway?"

Ichabod frowned. "I wanted to get an idea of what therapy was like so that maybe Katrina and I could go."

"Real life marriage counseling is a lot different than being on the Dr. Phil show, Ichabod," Gilbert said, a little calmer.

Then Mort spoke up. "Yeah, real life therapy is scary. They corner you and your spouse in a room, make you list out all the things you hate about the other person... then the fighting starts. It always starts. And then the cheating harlot is throwing a lamp at you, you're crying, and the doctor's holding you back from trying to punch her in the gut."

Ichabod stared at Mort, his eyes like saucers.

"I, um..." He started.

"Don't listen to Mort," Dr. Schnabel interrupted. "Mort has problems. Marriage counseling is generally not violent. The real purpose is to talk out your feelings in a calm, neutral environment, and understand the problems in your marriage from an objective, logical perspective."

"Oh. That sounds good," Ichabod answered, feeling a little bit better.

"I am good friends with a marriage counselor that's been in practice for thirty years or so. I'd be happy to introduce you and Katrina, if you'd like."

"I'd like that. I just have to convince Katrina to give it a shot."

"Well, talk to her, and let me know. Dr. Zand is a really nice man. Very professional and good at his job."

"Thank you," Ichabod replied, trying to ignore Mort, who was rolling his eyes, "Hopefully she will want to try it."

00

That evening, Dr. Schnabel helped Edward back to the room that he and Jack shared, since he seemed to be doing better.

The pain meds must've worn off a few hours later, though, because Jack was once again woken up by the sound of Edward groaning and crying.

Jack sighed, and got up from his bed, making his way over to his roommate.

"What's wrong, Edward? Are you hurt again?"

"Yes," Edward whispered, tears filling his big brown eyes.

Jack reached over to Edward's nightstand and picked up the prescription that Dr. Schnabel had given him. It was two pills, in case the pain got really bad again. Not enough medication to harm the babies, but there to help if Edward really needed it. And right now, he really did.

"You need to take your medication, savvy?"

Edward shook his head 'no'.

"Why don't you want to take it?"

"Don't want to be fuzzy again..."

"It's better to be fuzzy than be in pain like this, mate. You need to take it. Come on," Jack said, opening the pill bottle. "Sit up."

Edward just curled into a ball as best he could, being five months pregnant with twins, and turned away from Jack.

Jack sighed again, louder this time. "Edward, stop this."

Edward remained in his position, crying silently.

Jack shook his head. "I'll be right back" He said, standing up. The pirate wasn't in the mood to deal with this type of crap this Early in the morning. He was going to go get Wonka. Maybe the chocolatier could talk some sense into Edward.

Jack dragged a very sleepy looking Wonka into the room a minute later. Edward was still curled up, and still crying.

Wonka sat on the edge of his bed, and rested a hand on Edward's shoulder. "Edward, you need to take your medicine," He said softly.

Edward shook his head.

"Look at me," Wonka said, putting his fingers under Edward's chin and tilting his head. Edward looked up at him with big, brown, tear-filled eyes. "I know that the medication makes you feel kind of funny, but you need to take it. If you're in too much pain it's not good for you or for the babies. Do you understand?"

Edward sniffled. "Yes," He whispered.

"Good. Now sit up, and I'll help you take it, 'kay?"

Edward nodded.

Wonka put his hands under Edward's armpits, and helped him up.

"Jack, can you give me one of his pills?" Wonka asked, one arm wrapped around Edward's back in an attempt to keep him upright.

Jack nodded and took one of the pills out, and placed it in Wonka's palm.

"Open your mouth," Wonka instructed the younger man. Edward did as he was told, and Wonka placed the pill on his tongue. "Hand me that glass of water, Jack."

Jack handed him the water, and Wonka held the glass up to Edward's lips, helping him drink. After he took a few sips, Edward started crying again, collapsing forward into Wonka's arms. It was an awkward position, what with both men's big bellies getting in the way, but Wonka managed to hold Edward in a hug, letting the young man cry on his shoulder.

"Shh," Wonka whispered, running his hand up and down Edward's back, "Shh, you're okay. You need to calm down."

Wonka's words just made Edward cry harder, for some reason, so Wonka stopped talking, instead quietly continuing to rub Edward's back.

In a few moments, the medication began to kick in, making Edward relax. He slowly stopped crying, looking extremely exhausted instead.

Wonka lowered Edward back down onto his pillow, and pulled the covers up over him. He rested one hand on Edward's stomach, rubbing him gently. "Go to sleep, Edward. It's okay. Jack's here if you need anything and I'm right down the hallway too."

Edward sniffed, but nodded.

"Good boy," Wonka said, standing up. "I'll see you tomorrow morning. Have sweet dreams."

Jack watched, somewhat in awe, as Wonka left the room. The chocolatier was so good with Edward. It absolutely amazed him.

00

Jack and Wonka came down to breakfast the next morning looking very, very tired. Edward had managed to get some sleep after he'd taken his medication, and was feeling better today, but Wonka and Jack had been up for a while after they'd helped him.

Both were staring at their plates and playing with their food when a weird sound came from across the table.

"Fuck," Sweeney moaned, resting his head in his hands.

"What's wrong?" Dr. Schnabel asked, concerned.

"Ah... nothing," Sweeney answered, not wanting to make a big deal out of it. He was feeling dizzy and nauseated again, and right now it felt like the room was spinning at top speed. Then, just like that, it stopped. Sweeney lifted his head.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Dr. Schnabel asked.

"I'm fine," Sweeney said, picking his fork back up and stabbing a piece of French toast.

Jack and Wonka both looked relieved, neither wanting to deal with yet another sick person this Early in the day.


	18. Chapter 18

******A/N: Phish Tacko beta'd this. Go check out her page, she's an awesome author!**

**Chapter 18**

That afternoon, Ichabod and Katrina were to start their first day of marriage counseling. It'd taken no small amount of pleading and begging for Katrina to agree to it, and she only did so because of the fact that Ichabod's baby shared her genetics and she felt an obligation to at least try to give it a good home.

Jack and Angelica were going along, too. Jack had contacted her, and she'd agreed– without much of a fuss, much to Jack's surprise– to fly in and go with him. Apparently she'd gotten off the island a while ago, and had been contemplating contacting him anyway. And once she'd heard about the baby– the one that she and Jack had created– she'd been more than willing to come see him.

Angelica and Katrina agreed to meet Ichabod and Jack at the shelter. Katrina would give them all a ride to the therapists' office.

"Wow, you're huge," was the first thing that Katrina said when she saw Ichabod. It'd been over four months since she'd last seen him, and he'd barely been showing at all back then.

Ichabod blushed. "Yes, well... still another three and a half months to go."

Angelica, on the other hand, found Jack's new figure to be quite adorable.

"Jack…" She shuffled up to him and rubbed his belly. "This is amazing. This is our child."

Jack smiled. "So I take it I'm forgiven for leaving you on the island, then?"

Angelica stopped rubbing Jack's belly for a minute and looked sternly at his face. "Hey, now. Let's not go that far. I'm just saying that you look amazing. You're glowing!"

Katrina cleared her throat, interrupting Angelica.

"Can we go now?" She asked, her tone as bitchy as ever.

"Sure," Jack said. He, Angelica, and Ichabod all followed Katrina out to her Jeep.

They got to Doctor Zand's office a little bit early, so the four had time to talk amongst themselves in the waiting room.

Ichabod couldn't help but notice that Katrina kept staring at him.

"Is there a problem?" He finally asked.

"It's just… I just can't believe our baby is in there," She said, staring at his stomach. "Do you know if it's a boy or a girl?"

"No...I wanted a surprise."

"Figures, heaven forbid you take the easy way in life and actually prepare for this in advance."

Ichabod sighed, already feeling annoyed at his spouse. "Katrina, can we just try to get through this? Our baby deserves to have both parents in its life."

"Fine."

On the other side of the room, Jack and Angelica were sitting very close to each other, and she was occupied with touching his stomach again.

"So it's a girl?" She asked, smiling at the pirate.

"Yeah, due in the late spring. Early May or late April."

"Wow... Not so far off at all."

Right then, a tall man with dark hair, tan skin and thick-rimmed glasses appeared in the doorway. "Hi, I'm Dr. Zand. The four of you may come in now," He said, motioning for everyone to follow him down the hallway. They ended up in a nicely decorated office with comfortable chairs– something that both Jack and Ichabod were extremely grateful for.

"So, the four of you want to try group couple's counseling," The doctor began, taking out a piece of paper.

Everyone nodded.

"All right, then. Let's all go around and introduce ourselves first. I'm Marcus Zand, and I am certified therapist. I have thirty three years of experience working with couples, and a seventy percent success rate among my patients." He looked at Jack.

"I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, and I'm a pirate."

"Tell us a little more, Jack. I notice that you're pregnant?"

"Oh, yeah, about five months along now."

"Okay. Your turn," He said, looking at Angelica.

"I'm Angelica and I used to be in a relationship with Jack, until we ran into some _muy grandes problemos_. But I'm here to try to make amends."

The doctor raised an eyebrow, but kept the rest of his demeanor calm. "Alright... and you?" He glanced at Katrina.

"Katrina Crane. Ichabod and I were married and are now separated. I was a homemaker until it became necessary for me to work." The blonde glared at Ichabod as she said the last part.

"Okay. And you, sir?" Dr. Zand asked Ichabod.

"I'm Ichabod Crane. I was a police constable until... Well, after I found out I was pregnant, I couldn't really work anymore..."

Katrina rolled her eyes, "You could've worked. You quit months before you started showing, and most of the time you just push paper any way. There's absolutely no reason why you couldn't have stayed on awhile longer and provided for your family."

Ichabod sighed, "It was too much stress, Katrina! Did you want me to lose the baby? Because that's what would've happened if I'd stayed on the job. You have no sympathy for anyone but yourself, do you? God forbid your husband need some time off because he's with child!"

"It's not my fault you're a freak of nature," Katrina rebutted.

Both Jack and Angelica cringed at Katrina's words.

"DO YOU THINK I _WANT_ TO BE PREGNANT, KATRINA? DO YOU THINK I _CHOSE _THIS? DO YOU THINK THAT FOR SOME REASON, I _LIKE _HAVING SWOLLEN ANKLES AND BEING UNABLE TO SEE MY FEET, AND HAVING BACK ACHES AND THROWING UP ALL THE TIME? DO YOU?" Ichabod shouted, "I didn't want this! The least you can do is have some pity for me and maybe open your stone cold heart and care a little bit!"

Katrina's mouth dropped open. She'd never seen Ichabod yell like that before.

"I… I..." She started, but Ichabod spoke up again.

"I put up with a lot of your crap, Katrina. You'd be lucky to find another man who'd be willing to deal with all of your issues."

This statement just pissed Katrina off.

"Oh? Well guess what! You think you're so special? One of a kind? Let me tell you, I've been banging your cousin Wallace– Yeah, you know the construction worker? The MANLY construction worker? I've been with him for a year now!"

The only way to describe the look on Ichabod's face was as one of pure rage.

"You... WHAT!? Good Lord, Katrina, he's... Wallace used to touch the family dog when we were kids! And you're... sleeping with him?!" Ichabod moved to pick up a book from the doctor's desk, obviously intent on throwing it at his wife, when the doctor stopped him.

"Okay, okay, everyone! This is NOT how marriage counseling is supposed to go! Both of you, calm down, NOW, before I have to ask you to leave."

Ichabod put the book down, sat back down and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Now that we're a bit calmer, Katrina, will you please take a deep breath and explain, WITHOUT YELLING, why you feel the way you do? And Ichabod, just listen. Don't say anything until I tell you to."

Katrina frowned. "I…I guess I just assumed that I'd be the one having Ichabod's children. I wanted to have his babies... a few little kids running around, and I feel like he's taken that from me. It's hard for me to get past that. I know he didn't choose it," She said, looking at Ichabod in the eyes, "But I feel like he took it."

Dr. Zand scribbled some notes. "But you realize that you could have other children, as well, right? Ichabod does not have to be the only one to have a baby."

"But this isn't how it's supposed to be. He's supposed to be a father, he's supposed to provide for our family, not be home, barefoot and pregnant! That's not how I was raised to believe a family was supposed to be."

"Okay. Now, Ichabod, why don't you explain your feelings about this pregnancy and your relationship as well? CALMLY," The doctor reminded him.

"I love you, Katrina. I always have. I have always tried my best to give you everything that you could want. I feel like I've not asked from much from you. I just want you to support me with this. I understand that you're upset, but you must understand that I did not intend for this to occur either. I wish you could look past this and that we could be a family. The whole sleeping with my cousin thing... I'm willing to look past that if you never, ever, ever bring it up, ever again, or do it ever again."

Katrina nodded.

"Good. Now, we're going to leave it at that for you two today. What I want you both to do is think about ways that your partner could make your relationship better. What compromises would you be willing to make, as well? Write everything down, and we'll discuss that at the next session. Remember to try to be objective, and realistic. Okay, now, Jack and Angelica," The doctor said, turning his attention to the two pirates. They both looked at him.

"Angelica, tell me why you're upset with Jack."

"He stranded me on an island and killed my father. We were at the Fountain of Youth and my father and I had both gotten cut on a poisoned sword. Jack presented us with the chalices and he told me to take the one with the tear. As it turned out, he was presenting me the one without the tear, which was the one that my father grabbed. I realize Jack was saving my life, and I've forgiven him for that. Stranding me, though... Well, since he's having my baby, I could probably forgive him if he apologized."

"Jack, would you be willing to make a sincere apology to Angelica?"

Jack nodded. "I'm sorry, love. I didn't mean to hurt you, I really didn't. I love you and I'd like it if we could raise this child together, as a family. The three of us on the high seas," He said, thinking about their future lives together.

"And no more trying to kill each other." Angelica said, taking Jack's hand.

"Only if you promise me the same."

Angelica grinned. "I promise, _mi amore_. I won't try to go behind your back again. We'll stick together from now on."

"I love you, Angelica," Jack said, leaning in to give her a kiss. Angelica rested her hand on the side of Jack's stomach as she kissed him back. The two soon started kissing more passionately, and it went on for a few minutes, with Ichabod and Katrina looking on awkwardly, until Angelica and her chair fell over backwards.

"Way to go, spaz." Katrina snickered.

"Cállate." Angelica flipped her off.

"Dork."

"Snob."

Finally, the doctor cleared his throat. "Jack, Angelica, it seems as if you two are fine. I see no reason for you to come back next week."

Jack and Angelica just smiled at each other, their love for one another apparent in their eyes. Jack took Angelica's hand, and kissed it. "Thank you, doc."

The doctor shrugged. "I didn't do much here. So, that's the end of our session for now. I'll see you, Ichabod and Katrina, same time next Friday, all right? And congratulations to you, Jack and Angelica. I hope you have a wonderful life together."

"Oh, I'm sure we will," Angelica replied, snuggling up next to Jack, "We're made for each other, after all."

00

Katrina drove everyone back to the shelter, though the drive was spent in total silence. After the fight she and Ichabod had had, no one really knew what to say. Jack and Angelica were sitting close together in the back seat, but even they were being silent about it.

As soon as Katrina pulled up in the driveway, Ichabod got out of the Jeep and walked silently up to the door of the shelter, intentionally ignoring Katrina. Jack gave Angelica a kiss and followed him. They opened the door to find Sam dusting furniture.

"Oh, hey guys," Sam greeted, not stopping his chore, "How'd it-"

Sam caught one look at the scowl on Ichabod's face and immediately shut up. "...Never mind."

"Schnabel making you clean?" Jack asked, noticing that Sam was being pretty OCD about getting ALL of the dust.

"No, it's just been bothering me."

Then there were some voices coming from the kitchen.

"Are you sure you're alright?" One voice – apparently Mort – was asking, "'Cause you don't look alright."

"I'm fine..." The other voice – Sweeney's? - replied, though he sounded weak.

Ichabod rolled his eyes, shook his head, and went off to his room to sulk, while Jack went to go investigate what was going on.

He found Sweeney leaning against the counter, looking he was trying to keep from falling. Mort was next to him, one hand on Sweeney's back, trying to hold him up as much as he could.

"Little help?" Mort asked, once he saw Jack.

Jack came over, helped Sweeney up and led him to the nearest chair. The barber groaned, and placed one hand on his stomach, while he rested his head on the other, leaning on the table.

"I think you should go get Dr. Schnabel," Jack suggested to Mort. Sweeney was looking very, very pale.

"No," Sweeney said, forcing himself to sit up straight. "I'm fine."

"You almost collapsed. Something's obviously wrong with you," Mort said, looking very serious.

"I'm just going to deny it if you go get him. Let me be!" Sweeney replied, angrily. He pushed himself up from the table, and began to walk out of the room, though his legs were shaking.

Mort came to his side as fast as he could. "Let me at least walk back to your room with you, then."

Sweeney rolled his eyes. "How touching. Fine, you may come with me."

Jack watched as the two left the room.

"Weird," He said to himself, once he was alone. Bored, he went out into the common room. Wonka, Edward, and Gilbert were watching cartoons. Jack noticed that Buster was sitting on top of Edward's large stomach, curled up and sleeping. Funny that the animal would choose to lay on the one person who had blades for hands. But he supposed that the cat could tell that Edward was generally harmless. Animals were good with that kind of thing.

"What's on?" Jack asked, breaking everyone's concentration on the television.

"The Simpsons," Gilbert replied, not even bothering to look up.

"Can I join you?"

Gilbert and Wonka shrugged, so Jack flopped down next to Edward.

Sam appeared in the room when the commercials came on. He still had the dust rag in his hand, and still looked hell-bent on eliminating whatever dirt he could find.

"Hey, get out of the way! You're blocking the TV!" Wonka snapped. He sounded annoyed.

"Just let me get this little bit of dust..." Sam replied, brushing some dirt off the screen.

"Fucking hell," Wonka said, cursing for probably the second time in his entire life.

Jack and Gilbert both turned to him, stunned.

"What bug crawled up your arse today?" Jack asked.

"Nothing," Wonka said, crossing his arms. "I just want to watch the TV."

"The baby was kicking him all morning and he couldn't button his jacket," Edward said, smirking a little. "He's been mad ever since."

"Oh," Jack said. "Well you've only got another two and half months, right? No big deal. You'll be able to wear it again soon."

Wonka glared at Jack. "As a pirate with no sense of style at all, I don't expect you to understand what I'm feeling," He huffed.

"Jeez, take a chill pill," Jack muttered, turning his attention back to the television.

"Excuse me?" Wonka asked, "I didn't hear you."

"NOTHING," Jack said loudly. "Don't worry about it."

Wonka just went back to staring at the TV, not having the energy to really fight.

00

Mort walked with Sweeney up the stairs, and both of them were out of breath by the time they got to the top step.

"Hold on a sec," Mort said, leaning against the railing and taking a few deep breaths. Sweeney needed to stop himself, so he didn't protest.

The barber had taken a few breaths when he felt that horrible, familiar nauseated feeling creeping up. Fast. "I need to go," He said, somehow finding the energy to run to the bathroom. Mort could hear Sweeney getting sick.

He knocked on the door. "Are you okay?"

Sweeney didn't reply, but Mort heard him throw up again.

"That's it, I'm getting Doctor Schnabel."

Sweeney didn't have the energy to argue with him. He was too busy trying not to puke up any internal organs.

Luckily for Mort, the doctor was right down the hallway, doing some paperwork in his office. The doctor came immediately when Mort explained how sick Sweeney was.

"Mr. T?" The doctor called out. He could hear the barber dry heaving. "I'm going to come in."

Sweeney glared at the doctor as he opened the door. His eyes were bloodshot and he had tears running down his cheeks from throwing up. Dr. Schnabel bent down near him and held his thick hair back.

When Sweeney finally stopped being sick, the doctor got him a cup of water, and helped him up.

"I need you to come to my office for another exam," He explained, once Sweeney seemed to be doing a little better.

"No."

"You're sick. I need to see what's wrong with you," The doctor said. "And I'm not giving you a choice. Remember that you live here for free. You follow my rules, or you can go back to your old mattress and unheated room."

Sweeney sighed. He knew that he didn't have any options. No way was he going back to his shop, not while he was pregnant.

"Whatever," He finally said. "Let's just go."

"Good."

Schnabel led the way out, both he and Sweeney passing Mort as they walked down the hallway.

"Everything all right?" Mort asked.

"Just peachy," Sweeney replied. "Just bloody peachy."

00

The first thing Dr. Schnabel did was take Sweeney's temperature, since the man felt a little hot to the touch.

"99.8," The doctor read. "Let me take your pulse and blood pressure."

Both ended up being a little high, but the doctor put that off to the fact that Sweeney had just spent fifteen minutes throwing up.

"How long have you been feeling like this?" The doctor asked, writing some notes down in Sweeney's chart.

"On and off for about a week," He lied. He'd been feeling it for a couple of weeks now, but he didn't want to give the doctor reason to start poking and prodding him any more than necessary.

"And you've been throwing up each time?"

"Well... not like this. Usually I just feel sick, I don't actually get sick."

"Have you been eating normally?"

"I guess?"

"Let me get your weight," The doctor said, motioning to the scale, "I want to see if whatever's making you sick has affected that."

Sweeney shuffled over to the scale, and stepped on, looking rather unhappy.

Dr. Schnabel moved the little numbers around. "Interesting..." He wrote the number down.

"What is it?"

"I'd expect someone who was feeling so ill to lose weight, but you've actually gained eleven pounds since your last exam."

Well, that explained why he looked like he was showing so much.

"Okay," Sweeney replied, not sure of what else to say.

"Anyway, it seems like a mild stomach virus. Shouldn't be that big of a deal. Your body will fight it off, probably won't harm the baby. You'll probably feel better in the next few days, but if you don't, I need you to come straight to me, because it could be something more serious."

Sweeney snorted. Yeah, like that was going to happen.

"I'm serious, Mr. Todd," Dr. Schnabel said. "I need you to be honest with me if you don't feel better.

"All right, I will be," Sweeney said, though he knew he was lying. He'd never liked doctors. They'd always just... freaked him out a little. No way was he going to go for another exam, unless he was forced to. Besides, maybe a little illness would be good for him. If he'd really gained so much weight in so short of a time, maybe the illness would slow it down.

"For now, just rest. If you start feeling sick or dizzy, stop what you're doing and sit down. Make sure you drink a lot of water, or Gatorade, especially if you keep throwing up. It'll keep you hydrated and keep your electrolytes in check. Don't push yourself. That means no more outings until you're feeling better."

Sweeney frowned, obviously upset at the thought of losing his freedom, even temporarily.

"Okay," He said again, walking towards the door. "See you later."

"See you later, Mr. T. Take care of yourself."

As per usual for him lately, Sweeney slammed the door on the way out.

Sweeney didn't appear for dinner later on that night. He still wasn't feeling good, so he'd spent the rest of the afternoon sleeping.

Dinner itself was yet another awkward affair. Ichabod was sitting near Edward, helping him eat, but he was in a bad mood. He was taking this out by repeatedly stabbing random food on Edward's plate, and shoving it in the younger man's face, whether Edward seemed like he wanted it or not. Edward seemed kind of afraid to say anything. Even though he had lethal weapons for hands, he was generally non-confrontational.

On the other side of the table, Sam was scrubbing the area around his plate, trying to get the table cloth perfectly clean.

Jack was telling Gilbert all about how he and Angelica had gotten back together. Jack seemed extremely happy, though the conversation had the opposite effect on Ichabod. Hearing about how easily Jack and Angelica had slipped back into a committed relationship made him feel jealous, once again, just like he had when Anthony had been talking about his engagement.

Mort was busy feeding Buster some food, while Wonka was picking at whatever was on his plate. He was still annoyed by the events of that morning, and didn't feel much like eating so much as he felt like hitting something.

"So, Sam, what's new with you?" Dr. Schnabel asked, trying to break up the awkward silence.

Sam looked up from the spot he was scrubbing.

"Well, I talked to my mom today, and she's going to send me my grandma's engagement ring so I can propose to Joon! I think I'm going to do it on Valentine's Day. Make it all romantic for her."

Dr. Schnabel smiled, "That's sweet, Sam."

"I might read her a poem, I figure that'll surprise her a bit!"

"I'm sure she will love that."

The doctor noticed Ichabod scowling out of the corner of his eye. He watched as the constable stabbed a carrot on Edward's plate, and carelessly put the fork in front of Edward's mouth.

"Maybe it would be good to give Edward a chance to chew his food, before taking more?" The doctor suggested. Edward nodded in agreement, and then swallowed.

"Or he could just eat faster," Ichabod said.

Edward just twitched and looked down at his scissors, not wanting to get in the middle of an argument.

Ichabod's features softened when he saw how embarrassed and nervous Edward looked. He was still annoyed, but he started making a conscious effort to slow down.

"Mort, are you going to take Buster to the vet soon?" The doctor asked, getting kind of desperate.

Both Mort and his cat looked at the doctor.

"He needs to be f-i-x-e-d soon," Mort said.

"I don't think the cat understands you," Ichabod snapped.

"Well aren't you in a pissy mood today," The writer replied. "What, did you catch someone jay walking and couldn't make an arrest?"

"Screw you," Ichabod answered, slamming the fork down on the table. "You have no fucking idea what I'm going through. I'm done here. Goodnight."

Before anyone could answer, Ichabod had gotten up and left the room.

"Wow," Mort said. "What the hell was that?"

"Relationship problems," Jack replied.

"I thought Katrina left him months ago?"

"Yeah, but they're trying to give it a go at marriage counseling."

"Guys, it's not polite to talk about Ichabod if he's not here," The doctor cut in.

Jack just shrugged, and went back to talking to Gilbert about Angelica, while Mort continued to feed Buster little bits of chicken.

All too soon, the end of the week came, and it came time for Ichabod and Katrina's next appointment with Dr. Zand. Katrina agreed to pick Ichabod up from the shelter, though she didn't seem too happy about having to do so. Once again, most of the drive was spent in silence. Katrina only spoke up when they had almost gotten to Dr. Zand's office.

"How are you feeling?" She asked.

"My back hurts and I'm hungry all the time. How are you?"

Katrina shrugged, "Good, I guess. You're looking well."

"Thanks…"

There was a bit more silence until Katrina pulled into the parking lot.

"We're here," She announced, turning off the engine.

Ichabod was surprised when she came around the other side of the car, and opened the door for him.

"Do you need any help?" She asked softly.

"I'll be alright," Ichabod answered, "Thank you for asking though."

Katrina nodded, and followed Ichabod inside.

This time there was a much shorter wait to get in to see the doctor. He took them into his office almost immediately.

"So," The doctor began. "Let's start off slowly. Did both of you have a good week?"

"Eh," Ichabod replied. "It was alright."

"Decent," Katrina answered. "Busy at work. but otherwise good."

"And you're a secretary, right?" The doctor asked.

"Yes. I work for a lawyer."

"Interesting. Alright, well, did you both think about what we discussed last week? What compromises you'd be willing to make, and how your partner could make your relationship better?"

Both Katrina and Ichabod nodded 'yes'.

"Great. Katrina, why don't you go first? What could Ichabod do to make things work better for you, and what would you be willing to do in return?"

"The only thing I can think of is that I'd like to return to the routine of a normal family once the baby is born. I would like to take care of the infant, and I would like it if Ichabod could go back to work. I'd also like for Ichabod to look into birth control methods, so that this doesn't happen again. To compromise, I'd be willing to continue working for the rest of his pregnancy, and during his recovery."

"Okay. And Ichabod, what about you?"

"I'd be okay with going back to work after I've recovered. I suppose I would just like Katrina to be more supportive of me during this time. It's been hard to deal with the physical and mental changes that came with this on my own…" He trailed off. "And I'm not so sure about birth control… the medications that they have for it aren't exactly FDA-approved, there could be side effects."

"But I don't think you should have more children. I want to have the children," Katrina countered.

"So you'd be willing to sacrifice my health so that you could get your way?" Ichabod didn't look angry this time. Instead, he looked sad.

Katrina frowned, and gently look Ichabod's hand.

"I'm sorry," She whispered. "I'm sure we can find something that works for both of us."

Ichabod nodded, but didn't reply, knowing that this would probably be an issue later on.

"Katrina, do you think you'd be willing to help Ichabod for the next few months?"

"Yes… I could do that."

"What exactly would like want Katrina to do?" The doctor asked the constable.

"Just… I don't know. Come visit me. Maybe be a little kinder to me. And cut off communication with my cousin, too. I can't stop thinking about that." He turned to his wife, "I need you to promise me that you'll never… have 'encounters' with Wallace again."

Katrina sighed. "Yes, alright, I won't."

"I never, ever want to discuss this again, either. I'm going to try my best to forget that it even happened," Ichabod continued.

"Okay."

"Do you think you want to continue staying at the shelter? Or would you two like to try living together?"

"I don't get benefits with my job. Ichabod needs the pre-natal care that the doctor provides. I think he should stay there until the baby is born. As he said, I can go visit."

"That seems to be the best option," Ichabod agreed.

"That seems fair," The doctor scribbled some more notes. "I think perhaps you should start out visiting once or twice a week, and if that works and you two can get along well enough, Katrina can start visiting more."

Ichabod nodded. "Sounds fine to me."

"Good. I'd suggest that you two try this out for a few weeks, and if you find that you have further problems getting along, give me a call. We can schedule another session to discuss things rationally."

Both Ichabod and Katrina agreed.

The session ended shortly after that, and Katrina and Ichabod walked back out to the car, hand in hand.


	19. Chapter 19

******A/N: Phish Tacko beta'd this. Go check out her page, she's an awesome author!**

**Chapter 19**

The next few days, there was a little bit more excitement at the shelter.

February was about to begin. Sam was splitting his time between cleaning, and learning to read a poem for Joon. The cleaning bit had become sort of an obsession for him. It calmed him, for some reason, yet also frustrated him if only because the other occupants of the shelter left the place dirty all the time.

Knowing he would give birth in little more than a month, Wonka was busy making phone calls to his factory and ensuring that Charlie was getting the place ready for his return, along with the baby. It was Wonka's odd version of "nesting".

Mort, too, seemed to be getting more restless. He and Wonka were close to the same size, now, and if the doctor hadn't known that it was a sympathetic pregnancy, he'd have thought that Mort was also eight months pregnant. The writer seemed to be more nervous, lately. Pacing around as much as he could before getting tired, cleaning his room more often, just generally acting different than usual. Doctor Schnabel assumed that this had something to do with Wonka's behavior. Mort was probably subconsciously mimicking the chocolatier.

Jack had been spending most of his time with Angelica, planning the future with her. They both intended to return to the ocean when the baby was born, but would probably slow down on piracy for a while, if only to give their daughter a shot at growing up in a safer environment. Instead, they'd decided that they would sail around the world together, see some sights, and expose their daughter to new places and ideas while she was young.

Katrina had come to visit Ichabod a few times, usually bringing him something she thought would help him in some way. Vitamin K lotion to help his stretch marks, for instance, which Ichabod appreciated, but found it rather embarrassing to have needed, especially since Katrina presented it to him in while Mort, of all people, was in the room. His wife seemed to be showing him more affection, too, as Dr. Schnabel had caught the two sitting in the common room a few times, Katrina holding Ichabod in her arms, or laying her head on his chest, with her hand on his belly.

Edward had found himself in pain a few times, but wasn't as reluctant to seek help about it. He also seemed to be a little bit depressed, though it was hard for the doctor to really tell what the creation was thinking. From what he'd gathered from the few statements that Edward had made, the young man was worried about where he would go after giving birth, and how he would take care of his babies. He couldn't really go back to the mansion. It was nowhere near fit to raise two infants in. And what would he do for money? He still had two and a half months before he was due, and Dr. Schnabel figured that if Edward hadn't found a place to go by then, he'd offer him a permanent residence at the shelter. It was the right thing to do. He couldn't just leave Edward and his children out in the literal cold.

Gilbert had been... well, Gilbert. Helpful as ever. Even as he progressed in his pregnancy, his personality didn't change much. He seemed to still fully accept that he would be a father in a few months.

Sweeney was still under the weather, and had been lying low for a while. He was getting sick more and more often, and, despite Dr. Schnabel's request that he go see him if he didn't feel better soon, the barber had yet to go. He really, really just didn't want to go for an exam. Plus, his theory that being sick would help slow his weight gain was correct. He'd gone from being slightly pudgy to gaunt in a few short weeks. Everyone seemed to be concerned about him, even going so far as to offer him their food during the few times he showed up at meals, but he brushed them all off. He was a bit surprised that Dr. Schnabel hadn't said anything yet, but he assumed that the doctor was busy looking after the other residents.

On this particular day, Anthony was coming over to spend some time with him. As he was almost constantly dizzy now, Sweeney knew that today probably wouldn't be particularly fun. More likely, he would spend it lying down. Maybe he and Anthony could watch television together.

Knowing that Sweeney hadn't been feeling well, Anthony went up to meet him in his room instead of having Sweeney come down to meet him. He was shocked by what he saw when he walked in.

"Oh my God, Mr. Todd, what happened to you? Why are you so thin? Did you..." The boy was afraid to say it, but he had to ask. "Did you lose the baby?" He couldn't imagine how someone two months pregnant could be so small.

Sweeney, who was lying on his bed, turned to look at his friend.

"Huh? No. I've just been sick lately. You know that."

"But... you look terrible, Mr. Todd. Have you seen the doctor? You're so pale... and you're so thin!" He repeated.

"I'm always pale," Sweeney replied, not making eye contact with Anthony.

"Did you see the doctor?" Anthony asked again.

Sweeney didn't answer, so Anthony took that as a 'no'.

"Mr. Todd, you HAVE to go see the doctor! You're not well! You could be hurting your baby!"

Sweeney sighed. "I'll go later."

"No you won't. If I know you, you'll procrastinate and it'll be too late by the time you actually go."

"You're right."

Anthony shook his head. "This isn't right. I can't force you to go, but I think you should."

"Can we drop this subject?" Sweeney asked, obviously annoyed.

"I'll drop it if you'll come downstairs and eat something," The blonde countered.

"If it'll shut you up, then fine, I'll go. Come on." It took all of Sweeney's energy and willpower to get up from the bed, and as soon as he stood up he felt dizzy. He gripped onto the nightstand for support.

"I'll just bring something up to you," Anthony said, reaching to help Sweeney sit back down. "Just relax."

Sweeney shook the boy off. "No." Now he was determined to get downstairs, just out of spite. "We're going." He took a deep breath, let go of the nightstand, and shakily made his way towards the door.

He'd made it down the hallway, and down most of the stairs. By that point, Sweeney was convinced that he'd make it to the kitchen. Anthony was right behind him, watching his every move. He could feel the boy's eyes burning into him. He took another step down, and suddenly, he felt a hundred times dizzier. Before he could even react, everything went black, and Sweeney fell to the ground in a faint.

00

The next time Sweeney opened his eyes, he was in one of Schnabel's exam rooms. He looked around, only to see the concerned faces of Anthony, Sam, Gilbert, and the doctor all staring at him.

Upon further inspection, he noticed that he was laying in one of the hospital beds Schnabel kept for when it came time for people to deliver, and he had two IV's sticking out of his arms.

"What... happened?" He asked, very confused. He didn't remember anything prior to leaving his room with Anthony.

"You collapsed on the bottom of the stairwell," Anthony said. "I ran to get Dr. Schnabel. Thank God we did. Your heart rate was so high... You crazy bastard, you're lucky you be alive, though I ought to kill you for worrying me so much!"

"Oh. Well, I'm awake. Can I leave now?" Sweeney started to pull the IV needles out of his arms, but Gilbert stopped him.

"You're very sick," The redhead said seriously. "You need to stay in bed."

Sweeney was about to protest when Dr. Schnabel spoke up. "Gilbert's right. You have Preeclampsia, which means your blood pressure is getting too high. It's due to the pregnancy. That's why you fainted, and why you've been feeling dizzy and getting sick. You're going to have to be on bed rest for the next several months."

"What? No way," Sweeney pulled at the IV needles. Gilbert gripped Sweeney's arms and pinned him down.

"Come on, Mr. Todd, don't be like that," The redhead said.

"What are these needles for, anyway?" Sweeney asked.

"One's saline and one's nutrients. You're severely dehydrated and you've lost a lot of weight, which makes me think that you were sick more often than you told me. The IV's are there to help with both of those problems. Now, everyone, if you'll all excuse us, I would like to speak to Mr. Todd in private about what he should be expecting in the coming months."

Everyone nodded and shuffled out of the room, closing the door behind them.

Once they were alone, Dr. Schnabel spoke up. "As I said, the only way to effectively keep you healthy and from losing your baby is for you to be on bed rest for the next several months. That means no going out, no wandering around the house, none of that. You have a choice of staying here, or in your room. I or one of the residents will bring you your meals, which I expect you to actually eat, and I'll be monitoring your condition daily. Further, if you need to use the bathroom or take a shower, you're to call me, and either I'll help you or I'll have someone else help you. I'm considering hiring a LPN, so perhaps he or she will be assigned to work with you. Do you understand?"

"I don't like this," Sweeney replied. "I don't like this at all."

"I'm afraid you don't have much choice in the matter. It probably would've come to this, anyway, but you could've postponed it for a while had you come to see me like I'd asked."

The doctor's statement made Sweeney frown. For once, he actually felt stupid about his actions.

"This is going to suck," He whispered, sounding a bit like a little kid who was sad about not getting his way.

"I'm sure you'll find a way to entertain yourself. You can watch television, or talk to the other residents, or play board games. Hey, maybe you could even learn to knit!" The doctor suggested.

Sweeney just furrowed his brows. "Knit?"

"Okay, maybe not. Point is that you'll find things to do. I'll even let you use my laptop."

Sweeney perked up a little at the mention of a computer.

"All right, fine," He agreed. "But can we go get something out of my car? I have my own laptop, but it and all the things that go with it are in my car."

00

Three days in, and Sweeney was feeling a weird mixture of boredom and contentment. He'd fallen into the routine of laziness pretty easily; once he'd gotten used to having people do or help him with everything, it was fine. And Dr. Schnabel had hired an LPN to assist him– a younger girl named Ashley. She couldn't have been more than twenty five, and was quite attractive, which made having her help him to the bathroom and such all the more painful for Sweeney's psyche at first. He was getting used to her, though. She seemed to be very competent and went out of her way to try and make Sweeney feel less embarrassed.

Playing on his laptop helped a lot, too. He'd been sending Jack random memes at all hours and had even started a blog, which he used to rant about his current condition. The blog seemed to help get his frustration out.

Still, Sweeney missed being able to walk around and interact with others. Sure, the other residents would come see him, sometimes, but they often didn't stay long, they themselves getting bored after a few minutes of conversation. Sweeney hoped that Anthony would come back, soon. He surely would stay awhile.

Around 5 o'clock that evening, though, Sweeney's wish for some type of action was fulfilled, in a way that everyone least expected.

Mort had been complaining a lot that day, saying something about feeling sharp pains in his abdomen. Dr. Schnabel had put it off to Mort's mind pushing more symptoms of pregnancy on him.

So, everyone was surprised when Mort fell to his knees on the kitchen floor that night, screaming that something was wrong– that his stomach hurt way too much and that he felt like something was trying to tear its way out of him.

Sam, who'd been scrubbing the kitchen counters, had run and gotten Dr. Schnabel, who, upon seeing that Mort's trousers were wet, diagnosed that Mort actually had been pregnant, that his water had broken, and that the baby was coming.

The doctor called for Ashley, who helped him move Mort into the nearest exam room, and laid him down on a table. The writer was thrashing and screaming the whole time. He'd never experienced this type of pain, never in his life. He felt like he was being ripped in two.

The contractions were speeding up fast, too fast for Mort to get adjusted to them. As the rest of the residents, minus Sweeney, looked on worriedly from the doorway, Schnabel and Ashley prepped Mort for an emergency delivery.

Considering that Mort had received absolutely no pre-natal care at all, and that this was a full on emergency procedure, the delivery actually went smoothly at first. Schnabel had injected Mort with an epidural, to lessen his pain, and shortly after, the baby's head came out.

In the doorway, Ichabod took one look at the sight of Mort giving birth, and the blood that came with it, and promptly fainted. The loud 'thud' pulled Ashley's attention away for a moment.

"Get out of here!" She yelled, just noticing everyone staring now. "Can't you see we're in the middle of an emergency procedure? Some privacy, _por favor_!"

Everyone silently backed away, Gilbert and Jack pulling Ichabod with them as best they could.

The nurse turned her attention back to Mort. The writer had a very pained look on his face, like he was in the worst pain imaginable. It only took another minute of pushing for the rest of the baby to come out. It was a little boy, screaming at the top of its lungs with its eyes squeezed shut. The doctor handed the baby to Ashley, who cut the umbilical cord and began to clean it off. She quickly showed the baby to Mort, who took a look at it, and smiled.

And, then, his eyes rolled back, and a loud screeching noise filled the room.

"Shit, he's flat lining!" Schnabel groaned. "Quick, put the baby down. On my desk is a box with a syringe of Nitroglycerin. Get that, and the defibrillator! GO!"

Schnabel began doing CPR, manually keeping Mort's heart going, until Ashley returned in record time.

"Inject him with the Nitroglycerin. I'm going to prep the defib."

Ashley nodded, and began injecting the needle into Mort's IV. In the background she could hear the baby screaming, and she silently promised to do her best to save his father.

"It's ready," Schnabel said, applying the pads to Mort's chest. "It needs a second to analyze. Okay, ready– Hit the shock button!"

Ashley did as she was told. The electrical shock made Mort's body twitch, but there was still no heartbeat.

"Do it again," Schnabel said, "One... two... three, go!"

Ashley shocked Mort again.

Nothing.

By then, at least three minutes had passed since Mort's heart had stopped.

"Fuck," The doctor mumbled. "One more time. Put it up to full power. Go."

Ashley shocked Mort one more time, and this time, it worked. His heart started beating again.


	20. Chapter 20

******A/N: Phish Tacko beta'd this. Go check out her page, she's an awesome author!**

**Chapter 20**

Mort's heart had restarted, but he was still unconscious. Dr. Schnabel hoped that he would come out of his coma soon, but could not tell if he would have permanent brain damage yet. With Ashley watching Mort and his son, Schnabel gathered the residents and announced what had happened.

Everyone was in shock. Some people seemed angry that Schnabel had misdiagnosed Mort as having a sympathetic pregnancy, because perhaps this wouldn't have occurred had he gotten prenatal care, or if the doctor had been expecting him to deliver. Sweeney was one of those people. Word had reached him of what had happened pretty fast, and he had tried numerous times to get out of bed to go see his friend, but he was still too weak.

The baby was doing well, at least. He had Mort's nose, pale skin, and a tuft of light brown hair, similar to Mort's natural hair color. He was a big baby, about 21 inches and 8 pounds, which was somewhat surprising because Mort was such a generally tiny person. Ashley had cleaned the baby and wrapped him in a blue blanket, and put him in a crib and pulled it next to Mort's bed. The writer was breathing on his own, at least, and she hoped that maybe being close to his son would somehow help wake Mort up. For now, at least, she'd taken over feeding and caring for the child.

The evening that the baby was born, Sam came into Mort's room. Ashley was holding the little boy and feeding him a bottle.

"Hi, Sam," She said. softly.

"Hi... I was just wondering if maybe I could see Mort's baby for a minute."

Ashley raised an eyebrow, "Why?"

Sam frowned. "I just… I just wanted to hold him, and tell him that his dad will be okay. I want him to know he's not alone in the world. I mean... I know he has you... I guess I'm saying this all wrong. I'll just go."

Sam had turned around and was about to walk out when Ashley called out to him.

"Sam, you can hold him. Just be very careful."

Sam smiled, and came back over.

"Here, take a seat," She said, standing up. Sam took her place sitting on the chair near Mort's bed. He glanced over at his housemate. Mort was laying there, eyes closed, slowly breathing in and out, but not moving otherwise. It made Sam feel kind of nervous for some reason, so he looked away.

"Here you go," Ashley said, carefully handing Sam the baby and the bottle she was holding.

The baby didn't seem to mind switching over, but he did reach up and try to grab a strand of Sam's hair.

Sam smiled at the little boy, "Aw, look at you, you look just like your dad," He cooed. The baby grabbed onto his hair and pulled it.

"Ouch," Sam winced, pulling the baby's hand back gently. The kid didn't really react, just stared up at him. His eyes were the same shape as Mort's too, Sam noticed. He kind of wondered if whoever the other parent was looked like Mort or something, because the kid didn't seem to have anyone else's features.

"Just finish giving him his bottle, and let him sleep for a bit," Ashley said, pulling her long hair back into a bun, "I have to go check on Mr. Todd. It's almost bath time."

Sam wrinkled his nose at the thought of anyone having to bathe Sweeney. "Uh… Okay..."

Ashley smirked, and quietly walked towards the door. "Come get me or Dr. Schnabel if there's any problems."

"Okay."

Once he was alone with the baby, Sam began humming a tune, rocking him gently as he fed the little boy his bottle. It was a song that his mother had sang to him as a child, before he went to sleep, and when he got older, she sang it when he was sick to relax him.

The humming and rocking motion seemed to have the same effect on Mort's son. As soon as the baby was finished drinking his bottle, he yawned, and started to close his eyes.

"Alright, love," Sam whispered, placing the baby in the crib, "Sweet dreams. Your daddy will be alright," _I hope_, he added in, mentally. "He loves you very much."

Sam tucked the baby in, and turned his attention back to Mort. The writer was still in the exact same position as before. Sure that no one was going to interrupt him, Sam took a seat next to Mort's bed again, grasped Mort's hand, and quietly said a prayer for his well-being.

00

Sam left Mort's room soon after he finished praying. He had some chores to take care of, namely, laundry to do. He walked towards the laundry room, passing the common room on the way. Jack and Gilbert had apparently laid Ichabod down on the couch, and the constable was still unconscious. If no one woke him, it sometimes took Ichabod hours to wake up from a fainting spell. He needed the rest, anyway, Sam figured. Re-starting his relationship with Katrina had been emotionally draining for Ichabod, and from what Wonka had said, the constable had not been sleeping well because of it.

He did notice that there were goosebumps on Ichabod's skin. He must've been cold, even though he was sleeping, so Sam grabbed one of the throw blankets and covered him with it before leaving.

Soon enough Sam passed the stairway. He could hear arguing coming from the rooms on the second level. Apparently Sweeney was giving Ashley a hard time about taking a bath. Usually Sweeney was pretty compliant with her, but the stress of knowing that his friend was in a coma, and the fact that he couldn't do anything about it had left him feeling extremely moody.

"I can do it myself! I don't need help!"

"Fine, Mr. Todd," He heard the young nurse say. "If you want to sit there and stink, far be it from me to stop you."

Then he heard the door shut loudly, and saw Ashley walking towards the stairs.

"Is he okay?" Sam asked, once she was near the bottom step.

"He's upset and he doesn't know how to deal with it without getting angry," She replied.

"Oh. Would it help if I try to talk to him?"

The nurse shrugged. "Might as well give it a shot. But I'll warn you, he's in a really bad mood."

Sam nodded, "Okay."

"Thanks, Sam," Ashley replied. "I'm going to see how Ichabod's doing."

"He's still asleep," Sam said, "He's on the couch. He looked like he was cold so I put a blanket on him."

Ashley smiled. "You're really sweet. Thanks again."

"No problem," Sam mumbled, as Ashley walked away.

00

As Sam went to gather his laundry, Wonka was nervously pacing the dining room, talking to Jack and Gilbert.

"I mean... Do you think the same thing could happen to me? Or to any of us?" He asked, biting his nails. Wonka never did that unless he was really nervous.

"First off," Gilbert said. "You need to calm down. Stop pacing like that. And secondly, no, I do not think it will happen to any of us. No one expected Mort to go into labor, whereas everyone else here has a due date. The doctor is fully prepared to help us each give birth."

"But... Mort's body just couldn't take it... what if that happens to us? What if we can't take it? I don't want to be in a coma!" He exclaimed, pacing around even faster. Well, as fast as he could, being as big as he was.

"You're not going to be in a coma, mate," Jack said. "And Gilbert's right, you need to calm down. If you're really this nervous, then go talk to Dr. Schnabel about it."

"No," Wonka shook his head. "I'm not talking to him. He didn't even think Mort was pregnant! He's not competent."

"Well he's going to deliver your daughter whether you think he's competent or not," Gilbert said. "And you can always go talk to Ashley too. She seems pretty smart, and she's real nice."

Wonka sighed loudly, and placed a hand on his stomach. "I just don't want anything to happen to any of us."

Gilbert nodded, "I understand, Willy, but I really, honestly think you'll be okay."

"I don't have anyone else. I mean, there's Charlie, but, that's about it. And the oompa loompas, I guess."

"You're going to be fine," Jack said, "Really. Go talk to Ashley."

"Oh, all right. I will."

00

Wonka found Ashley in an exam room, cleaning out a cut on Edward's face. In all the excitement the young man had cut himself somehow. Usually, he just gave himself little nicks that healed on their own, but this one was a bit deeper and merited a bit of medical attention.

"Miss Ashley?" Wonka called from the doorway.

Ashley turned around, still holding the cotton ball with peroxide that she was using on Edward's cut.

"Hi, Willy," She said. "If you'll just give us a moment, I'm almost done."

Wonka nodded, letting her continue. She was finished a few moments later.

"Okay, Edward. It's all clean. Just keep it that way and I'm sure it'll heal fine," She said, helping the heavily pregnant man up from the table he was sitting on.

Edward shuffled out of the room, smiling at Wonka on the way out.

"So, what's up?" Ashley asked.

Willy bit his fingernail again. "I, uh… I have some concerns I was hoping to discuss with you." He started.

Ashley nodded. "Sure. Why don't you take a seat, and we'll go over everything."

"Thanks." Wonka sat down, feeling much better now that he was off his feet. It was getting harder and harder to stand for long periods of time, and the pacing he'd been doing had done him in. He couldn't help but sigh in relief as his sore back muscles got a break.

"What are you concerns?" Ashley asked, shutting the door so they could have a private conversation.

"Just... Is... Is what happened to Mort going to happen to the rest of us?" Wonka asked, still picking at his nails. "I mean, it's just, disconcerting, is all."

Ashley thought her answer over carefully before replying. "Willy, Mort was in a very different situation than the one you, and everyone else is, as well. If we'd known he was pregnant, I doubt he'd have had as many complications. When it comes time for you to have your baby, we'll be all ready for you with everything we could possibly need right there, to help you along. We didn't have that for Mort."

"But... Mort just wasn't strong enough. What if I'm not strong enough?" Wonka said the last part quietly, almost as if he was embarrassed to ask, and he refused to make eye contact with Ashley.

"Again, it's a different situation. Mort isn't exactly... the healthiest person to begin with. You've had a lot of pre-natal care and from what I saw, all of your records indicate that you're perfectly healthy, so there's no reason that your heart should stop while you're giving birth."

Wonka nodded, feeling a little better now that he'd heard Ashley's response.

"And, will Mort..." He trailed off, swallowing nervously. "Will Mort be okay?"

A sad look flashed across Ashley's face. "I hope he will."

"You don't know? You should know," Wonka said, now looking directly at her.

"Willy, I can't predict the future. I hope Mort will be okay. Usually people in his condition eventually pull out of the coma and go on to live normal, or mostly normal lives. That doesn't mean that Mort won't have further complications, though. We'll have to see what happens in the next few days. Those are the most critical."

"Okay," Wonka said softly. "One last question."

"Yes?"

"Are you going to be there when it's time for me to uh, go in?"

Ashley smiled. "Yes, I'll be assisting Dr. Schnabel, so I'll be there the whole time."

"Oh, thank goodness," Wonka said, looking a bit brighter. "I trust you more than him."

Ashley blushed. "Well, thanks, I guess."

"You're welcome."

"Okay, Willy, I have to go check on Mort again. You look tired. Maybe you should get some rest."

"Yeah, I will. Thanks Ashley."

"Not a problem. Have a good night."

00

Sam carried the basket of laundry upstairs and knocked on Sweeney's door.

"What?" came the nasty response from inside.

"It's Sam. May I come in?"

"Yeah, okay," Sweeney answered, but the anger in his voice was apparent.

Sam pushed open the door, finding Sweeney sitting up in his bed, closing his laptop. His hair was splayed in all directions and it almost looked like he had an afro. Obviously, he hadn't brushed it out in a while.

"I figured maybe you'd be willing to help me fold some laundry, and talk a little," Sam said, setting the basket on the end of the bed.

"Sounds fun," Sweeney answered sarcastically. When he saw the somewhat sad look on Sam's face, he immediately regretted using that tone. Sam was always very kind to him, even if he wasn't nice in return. "Actually, yeah, I'll help you."

Sam smiled, and took out several shirts. He handed them to Sweeney.

"So, I heard you yelling at Ashley before," Sam stated, folding a pair of sweatpants.

"Stupid ho wants to give me a bath. Do you know how humiliating that is? Having a beautiful twenty-something give you a bath?"

"You've let her do it before," Sam answered. "Why's it so bad now?"

"I... Um, well..." Sweeney started, but he really had no good answer.

"Are you sure you're just not upset about Mort?"

Sweeney stopped folding the shirt he was working on, and stared at Sam, unsure of whether to admit that the young man was right or uphold his stoic image. Finally, he decided he may as well be honest.

"I'm a bit upset about that, yes. I want to go see him."

"I know. I'm sorry. I cannot imagine how frustrated you must feel. If it helps, I spent some time in his room. It just looks like he's sleeping. That's all he's doing, really... sleeping."

"Except he won't wake up if you shake him or yell at him because he's in a coma," Sweeney said, the sadness obvious in his eyes.

"He might wake up soon. You have to have faith," Sam answered, picking up a couple of socks and rolling them into a ball. "God will take care of him."

"Faith. Yeah, right," Sweeney muttered, throwing the shirts he'd folded back into the basket. He was clearly uncomfortable with the conversation, because he changed the subject quickly. "Your clothes smell like lavender. It's nice."

"Oh, that's the fabric softener I use," Sam said, "Downy. Joon always liked it because it didn't irritate her skin, so I've just kept using it."

"Joon... That's your girlfriend, right?"

"Yep! Hopefully my fiancée soon. I'm going to ask her to marry me on Valentine's Day."

"So I've heard. Are you excited?"

"Excited and nervous. I'm a little scared she'll say no."

"Why would she say no? Doesn't she love you?"

"She does. I dunno," Sam bit his lip. "I'm just thinking too much, maybe."

"You are. If she loves you she'll say yes."

"I hope so. I'm going to talk to her about Edward, too. I want to see if she'll agree to let him stay with us. It's not really fair, you know? How he is. He didn't ask to be that way and he's nice and we have a couple of extra rooms and all."

Sweeney smirked. "That would be nice of you. I'm sure Edward would appreciate it. You're a good man, Sam. It sort of... I guess it restores my faith in humanity, just a little bit."

"Well that's good. Not everyone is bad, you know."

"Obviously not. You're not."

"Did you... Did you like being married, Mr. Todd? I remember you mentioned you had a wife once."

Now Sweeney really smiled. "Oh, I loved it. I loved her. Every day I woke up next to her, I was grateful. We had a good life together, Lucy and I. We were very happy."

"That's nice...I'm sorry you don't have that anymore."

Sweeney shook his head. "It isn't your fault. But thank you." He reached for a few socks, bundling them the way Sam was doing. "And thanks for coming to talk."

The two finished folding the laundry in a comfortable silence.


	21. Chapter 21

******A/N: Phish Tacko beta'd this. Go check out her page, she's an awesome author!**

**Chapter 21**

Gilbert was walking down the hallway, intending to get a pre-breakfast snack (he was very hungry these days) when he strolled past Mort's room and heard the noise.

Something was moving.

At first, he figured it was Buster. The cat had stayed by Mort's feet the entire time he'd been unconscious so far. Ashley had actually bought the cat's food, water, and litter box into the room because Buster just wouldn't leave his master for anything.

But the noises were too loud for a cat to be making, even if he was walking around on the furniture like he sometimes enjoyed doing. So, Gilbert poked his head into the room. He was surprised to see Mort tossing and turning, apparently in the middle of waking up.

"Oh, crap," Gilbert muttered. He raced to get Dr. Schnabel and Ashley, who quickly made their way to Mort's room just in time to see him open his eyes.

"Mort!" Dr. Schnabel exclaimed. "You're awake!"

"Huh?" Mort asked, "Where am I? Who are you?" He started to sit up on the bed and move back. Suddenly, his baby started crying, and it startled him. "And what the fuck is that?"

Gilbert's mouth dropped open as he watched Mort freak out, but Dr. Schnabel seemed to expect this.

"Mort, my name is Doctor Leonard Schnabel. You're at my shelter. You just gave birth to a little boy yesterday. That's your son right there," He said calmly.

"What? I don't have kids!" Mort yelled, looking more and more scared. "I need to go home." He tried to stand, but was too weak and collapsed to the ground. "Fuck! What the fuck?"

Ashley moved to his side to help him back into bed. "Mort, you need to lie down. You're far too weak to be walking around. Please, please just rest and all of this will come back to you soon."

As soon as Mort was settled back into bed, Ashley picked up his son and rocked him to get him to go back to sleep. Mort eyed the baby warily.

"Do you want to hold him?" Ashley asked, hoping that holding his son might trigger Mort's memory.

Mort cringed at the thought of holding a baby and shook his head. "No. Ew. Get it away from me."

Ashley frowned. "Okay. Just... Just rest, Mort. It'll be okay."

"Yeah, that's easy for you to say. You're not being held captive in a hospital!" Then the writer caught a glimpse of Gilbert. "Oh, wait, I know you!" He said.

Gilbert smiled and stepped forward, "I'm glad you recognize me, Mort."

"Yeah, you're that rat-fink constable. What the fuck are you doing here?"

Gilbert sighed. This was definitely going to be a hell of a day.

"I'm Gilbert, Mort. I'm not Ichabod. I work in a supermarket. Well, I did."

Mort stared at him for a moment, before a hint of recognition came to his eyes. "Gilbert... oh, yes, I remember you. You're the one that helps everybody get their shit together."

"Thank you."

Mort looked over at the baby in Ashley's arms. "And that's my son?"

"Yes," The nurse replied. "You had him less than 24 hours ago. Would you like to hold him?"

"I don't remember being pregnant... Are you sure he's mine?" The writer asked, looking himself over for any remaining signs of having been with child. His body hurt, for sure, and his stomach wasn't as flat as it used to be, but it wasn't big either, so it really could've gone either way. He figured he could've gotten hit by a bus and gained some weight just as much as he could've been pregnant for 8 or 9 months.

"He's definitely yours. He looks just like you," Ashley answered.

"Uh, hate to be a jerk, but everyone here looks just like me, just with different hair."

"I swear that this is your son," Ashley said, getting a bit frustrated. "Here." She placed the baby in Mort's arms.

He looked down at the little boy. The kid really did look just like him. As he was staring in awe at his son, the baby reached up and attempted to poke him in the eye. Then he seemed to smile.

"Yeah, okay, he's mine," Mort said, smiling back at the baby.

"Do you have any ideas for a name?" Dr. Schnabel asked.

Mort thought for a moment, studying the baby before answering.

"Anakin. Anakin Skywalker Rainey."

"Huh." Gilbert said, thoroughly surprised by the name.

"What?" Mort asked. "The Force is strong with this one. I can feel it."

00

Gilbert stayed a few more minutes, before leaving so that Mort could have some time with his son. He couldn't help but noticed that Mort had said, "Goodbye, Sam" when he left the room, but he decided not to say anything. The writer had a hard enough few days as it was. Dr. Schnabel left soon after as well, leaving only Ashley behind.

Mort held his son for some time longer, until the baby fell asleep in his arms. Ashley then took him and laid him down in his crib.

"You should rest too, Mort," She said, pulling his blankets up. "You need your strength to recover."

"I'm not tired," He pushed the covers back down.

Ashley sighed in frustration. "Then just lay there for a while. I can bring you up some breakfast if you want."

"Are you going to make it?" He asked, winking at the nurse jokingly. "You know, do something special for me, Mary?"

"My name's Ashley, Mort, and yes, I'll make you something, but don't get any ideas beyond a nurse-patient relationship!"

Mort rolled his eyes. "I'm just joking. Lighten up, Francis. Food would be good, though."

"I'll be right back, then. By the way, Buster's been here for the entire time you've been out," She said, looking at the cat, which was currently curled up at Mort's feet.

Mort looked very confused. Finally, he spoke up. "Uh, Ashley? Who's Buster?"


	22. Chapter 22

******A/N: Phish Tacko beta'd this. Go check out her page, she's an awesome author!**

**Chapter 22**

Later in the morning, Mort found himself inundated with visitors. It seemed like the entire shelter population had come to his room.

First had been Sam, who had been quick to ask Mort if he needed anything at all or if he could help in any way. Mort recognized this boy... Well, at least, he remembered him from somewhere, but couldn't quite recall his name. Sam, he thought. Sam or Mike. Maybe John, or James, or some other name out of the Bible. It was something normal-sounding. That much, he knew.

Edward came in soon after. Mort remembered him immediately.

"Edward," He said, staring at the young man's scissors. Somehow they seemed shocking to him now, for some reason. "How are you?"

"Oh, you remember me," Edward said, happily.

"You're a little hard to forget," Mort answered, nodding at Edward's scissors.

"Oh. Okay," Edward said, softly. He looked kind of sad.

"Sorry," Mort said, realizing that he'd hurt the boy's feelings.

Just then, Anakin started crying.

"Shit. I'd, uh, ask you to hand me the baby, but I don't think that's wise. Please go get Mary for me?"

"Mary?" Edward asked, "Who is Mary?"

"You know, the nurse. The cute one with the long brown hair? Mid-twenties, slim, blue eyes?"

"You mean Ashley," Edward corrected him.

"Yeah, her. Can you get her?" The writer asked as Anakin began to cry harder. He would have picked the baby up himself, but he was still extremely sore and moving hurt a lot.

"Yes," Edward answered, shuffling out of the room. "I hope you feel better soon."

Ashley came into the room a few second later, picked Anakin up, and handed him to Mort.

"What's wrong with him?" He asked when the baby failed to stop crying after he'd rocked him for a bit. "Why is he doing that?"

"I think he needs a change," Ashley replied.

"Ugh… I'm, uh, feeling kind of sick, so, if you could..." Mort trailed off, giving Ashley his biggest puppy dog eyes.

"Funny, you seemed to be fine just a minute ago. Are you sure you're not just trying to get out of changing your son?"

"No. Not at all. I really feel terrible," Mort said, putting a hand to his head dramatically. "Just horrible. I think changing him will just make things worse."

"Yeah, okay," Ashley said, taking the baby from Mort. She pretended not to hear him snicker to himself behind her back. It only took her a minute to change the baby. She'd performed the same act hundreds of times back at her old job in the maternity ward at the hospital. "Here you go," She said, handing Anakin back to Mort. The baby was noticeably calmer.

"Thank you!" Mort said, rocking the baby again.

"Wow, look, seems you've made a miraculous recovery!" Ashley said, smiling. She knew she'd caught the writer.

Realizing that he'd let his guard down, Mort frowned. "Fine, you win."

Ashley shook her head, "You could've just asked me to change him and I'd have done it. No need for dramatics."

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

"I wish I'd known that five minutes ago."

"Now you do." The nurse looked towards the door, where she saw Ichabod and Jack peering in. "Looks like you have some more visitors. You ready?"

Mort nodded, "Ready as I'll ever be. Hopefully I'll at least remember their names."

As soon as Ashley left, Ichabod and Jack made their way into Mort's room. The writer stared at them, waiting for one of them to start talking.

"So, how are you feeling?" Jack asked.

"A little weird. Like my brain is… It's just… I get confused easily. And everything hurts, but if I really did give birth yesterday, then that makes sense."

"Yes," Ichabod agreed. "You've been through a lot."

Mort nodded. Suddenly, the baby started crying again. Mort began rocking the infant, trying to calm it down.

"We heard you named him Anakin." Ichabod stated once the baby was a little quieter.

"Anakin Skywalker Rainey, to be exact."

"I thought you were a Trekkie, not a Star Wars fan," Jack said, confused.

"I like both actually. I mean, I've been dressing up as Star Wars characters for Halloween since 1986-" The writer stopped, realizing that the information that he was giving up was rather embarrassing. "Uh, never mind."

"Really? Han Solo? A Jedi?" Ichabod asked, "I can't imagine that. Do you have photos?"

"No, I don't have photos!" Mort snapped, making a mental note to hide the photo album in his room whenever he got back up there. Anakin started to cry again. "See what you did, rat-fink?"

"Me? You're the one that got all loud! And I thought we were past the rat-fink thing!"

"Maybe. I can't really remember. I just know that I get a weird vibe from you, so I probably don't like you still."

"Oh." Ichabod looked a little dismayed at that comment.

"Yeah, sorry to hurt your feelings. I'm just being honest."

"It's… okay, I guess."

There was an awkward silence as Ichabod stared at his feet, and Mort stared at the baby.

"Well, then," Jack said, trying to make it less awkward, "Glad you're feeling better. Maybe later tonight I'll get Schnabel to bring the TV in."

"Oh! We can watch A New Hope!" Mort said, excitedly.

"Why Episode 4? Why that one?"

"Because it's the best one."

"I'll take your word. See you later, then."

Jack and Ichabod left the room, and once again the baby started crying. Mort started rocking him, trying to figure out why the kid wouldn't quiet down.

00

Upstairs, Sweeney was having his own problems to deal with. The fact that Dr. Schnabel and Ashley thought that he needed someone to help him shower, of all things, was very insulting to him.

That in mind, Sweeney was determined to try to disprove their theory. He could function on his own. He knew it. First thing he would do was shower.

Once again, it took all of his strength to even get up out of bed. He'd been essentially lying down for over three days, and whenever he did get up, he had someone helping him, so he wasn't used to the movement.

Slowly and carefully, he made his way to the bathroom attached to his room.

'Now, just gotta turn on the water,' He thought to himself.

It took another five minutes for him to bend down and adjust the water to the appropriate temperature, but he did manage to do it.

'And now I'm going to take a shower,' Sweeney briefly wondered why he was mentally narrating this mundane task in his head in Morgan Freeman's voice, but chalked it up to general insanity.

Sweeney stepped into the shower, and it felt AWESOME. Three days of having someone next to him while sitting in a bathtub was nothing compared to the feeling of bathing one's own self.

He was washing his hair when he suddenly felt extremely weak. It was not dissimilar from when he'd felt dizzy on the stairs, and this time, it was worse. Before he could react, he fainted, sounding a loud THUD as he whacked his head against the wall.

It was only sheer luck that Sam had left a pair of socks in Sweeney's room. He'd come in a few minutes later to find it, only to hear the shower running. Yet, he'd just seen Ashley downstairs…. Something didn't seem right.

"Mr. Todd? Are you in there?" He knocked on the bathroom door.

There was a loud groan that came from the other side.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked a bit more frantically. "Can I come in?"

"I need help…" Sweeney called pathetically.

"Okay, okay, I'm coming," Sam said, opening the door. He was immediately hit by a curtain of steam and could barely see.

"Where are you?" He asked, looking around. He could see that the bright blue shower curtain was gone.

"I fell in the shower," Sweeney replied weakly.

Sam looked down to find Sweeney lying on the floor of the bathtub, curled up under the shower curtain. Sam turned off the water so that he could help him up without getting wet.

"Here," Sam said, reaching his arms out. "Grab onto to me. I'll pull you up."

Sweeney looked up at Sam. His head was still swimming and his vision was blurry. But even worse, his leg felt like it'd been twisted and it hurt like a bitch.

"I think I hurt my leg," He said pitifully. "Throw me my towel, will you?"

Sam handed Sweeney his towel and glanced down. Yeah, Sweeney's leg was definitely broken. Sam didn't know how he hadn't noticed that immediately.

"It's broken," Sam answered.

Sweeney groaned again.

"I'm going to go get help. Just… don't move."

"Not like I could if I wanted to," Sweeney said, still sarcastic despite the huge amount of pain he was feeling.

Sam went as fast as he could downstairs, pulling both Dr. Schnabel and Ashley back up to Sweeney's room with him.

They entered the bathroom to find Sweeney still in the same position that he was in a few minutes prior.

"This is going to be difficult," The doctor said, looking Sweeney over. "It's going to hurt."

"Well, just do it!" Sweeney said through clenched teeth.

Dr. Schnabel nodded. "Ashley, help me pull Mr. Todd here up, will you? And as for you, Mr. Todd, when you get up, try to lean on your left leg, since that one seems to be okay."

It took a full seven minutes: Probably some of the longest, most painful moments of Sweeney's life, but the doctor and the nurse managed to successfully get him upright, and lead him back towards his bed.

"Now for the fun part," The doctor said. "I have to set your leg."

Sweeney groaned again, the pain overwhelming him. Thankfully, when it became too much, unconsciousness claimed him within the next few seconds.

00

As Dr. Schnabel was trying to manipulate Sweeney's bones so that they could heal properly, Jack was wandering around the common area, looking for something to do. Angelica was helping one of her friends with computer troubles for the day, and thus had no intentions of visiting him, so he was kind of bored.

He was walking towards the hallway when a wall hit him out of nowhere.

"Ow," He hissed, taking a step back. "Stupid wall." The pirate glanced around to make sure no one had seen him. The common room appeared to be empty, so he was safe.

Frowning, he started walking towards the hallway again. He was about halfway down it when he tripped over something, just managing to catch his balance in time so he didn't fall.

Then he noticed that whatever he'd tripped over was currently hissing at him. He realized that it must be the cat, which had finally emerged from Mort's room after the writer had woken up.

"Stupid cat," Jack mumbled, walking away as the animal continued to growl and flip its tail at him.

Out of nowhere, there then came a voice. "Having problems?"

"Huh? What?" Jack turned around, trying to find who was speaking to him. He turned to almost run directly into Gilbert.

"Don't startle me like that," Jack said, trying to regain his composure.

"Looks like you tripped over the cat."

"Uh… I wasn't paying attention."

"And you walked into a wall back there, too."

"You saw that?" Jack asked, feeling a little embarrassed.

"Yep. You'd have probably seen me too if your eyesight was good enough."

"My eyesight is just fine, thank you very much," Jack said.

"Jack, in the past four months, I've seen you walk into at least 3 walls and trip over things at least 5 times. You should get your eyes checked."

"Like I said, my eyesight is fine, and I'll thank you not to be telling me how to live my life." Jack said, as he started to walk away. He knew that the redhead was right, though. He'd been having problems seeing for over a year, now, and it'd been progressively getting worse over time. Lately he'd been having trouble making out anything that was further than three feet away.

"Damn Gilbert, always trying to be helpful," He muttered to himself as he walked into a bedroom.

"Uh, hi? Do you need something?" Yet another voice.

"I need to sleep, mate," Jack answered, walking towards his bed.

"Well you might want to go to your own bedroom for that."

It was then that Jack realized he'd accidentally gone into Wonka and Ichabod's room instead of the one that he and Edward shared.

Yeah, maybe it was time to get his eyes checked.


	23. Chapter 23

******A/N: Phish Tacko beta'd this. Go check out her page, she's an awesome author!**

**Chapter 23**

To say Sam was nervous about proposing to Joon was an understatement. He was terrified. He didn't really know why, either, because he thought she'd probably say yes. But still, it was a nerve wracking experience.

The afternoon that he was set to propose, Ashley had driven him over to Joon's apartment. Sam had been sure to wear the best clothes that he could find, which was kind of difficult, since most of his clothes didn't fit right any more. Thankfully Gilbert had lent him a dress shirt that was a bit bigger, and he'd found a pair of dress pants at the back of his closet that just barely buttoned, but looked good nonetheless. Last, he brushed out his hair and put on the hat that he wore almost every where.

Sam rang Joon's doorbell. She'd been expecting him. They'd planned to spend Valentine's day together for quite some time, but she wasn't expecting the dozen red roses that he had in his hand, or for him to look quite so dashing.

"Wow… you didn't need to do this!" Joon said, taking the flowers. "They're gorgeous. Did you know flowers are actually plant reproductive organs?"

Sam stared at her. He knew that Joon had a lot of odd knowledge and sort of expected that she'd say something funny.

"I didn't know that."

"They're beautiful plant reproductive organs."

"Great!"

"Do you want to come inside?"

Sam looked around, and pulled his coat a little tighter. It was freezing outside. Ashley waved at him from her car.

"Yes."

Joon led Sam inside, and Ashley drove away.

"Since it's Valentine's Day, I thought I'd make us dinner," Joon said, taking Sam's coat.

"Oh, that's nice!" Sam replied. He'd expected to make dinner for both of them, as part of his proposal, but he was sure he could make do with the change in plans.

Joon nodded. "I made grilled cheese."

Sam smirked, looking at the platter of grilled cheese with iron-shaped burns on the bread. "Sounds good to me."

Joon smiled and brought the plate of food over to the kitchen table. "I'm hungry. Can we eat now?"

"Sure." As he got up, Sam felt around in his pocket, ensuring that the box with his grandmother's ring hadn't fallen out. It was still there.

The pair was eating, sharing a quiet but comfortable silence. That was one thing Sam loved about being with Joon, that they didn't always HAVE to talk to each other and it was never awkward. But as he finished his second sandwich, he decided it was time to speak up.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Joon."

"Happy Valentine's Day, Sam," Joon replied, a small smile crossing her lips.

"So… I have a surprise for you."

"Surprises are good. Sometimes. Sometimes they're not. I'm assuming that this is a good surprise?"

"I... I think it is?" Sam answered, the question making him a bit nervous for some reason.

"Go on then."

"Well, first, I wanted to read you something."

Joon's eyes lit up. "I didn't realize you could read! I mean, I knew you could read short sentences, and that Gilbert was teaching you…"

"I can read longer ones now." Sam pulled out the piece of paper that was crumpled in his other pocket, and unfolded it.

"Okay, here goes.

"The wondrous moment of our meeting,

Still I remember you appearing

Before me like a vision fleeting,

A beauty's angel pure and clear.

In hopeless ennui surrounding

The worldly bustle, to my ear

For long your tender voice kept sounding,

For long in dreams came features dear.

Time passed. Unruly storms confounded

Old dreams, and I from year to year

Forgot how tender you had sounded,

Your heavenly features once so dear.

My backwoods days dragged slow and quiet –

Dull fence around, dark vault above -Devoid of God and uninspired,

Devoid of tears, of fire, of love.

Sleep from my soul began retreating,

And here you once again appear

Before me like a vision fleeting,

A beauty's angel pure and clear.

In ecstasy my heart is beating,

Old joys for it anew revive;

Inspired and God-filled, it is greeting

The fire, and tears, and love alive."

Joon sat in stunned silence as Sam slowly and carefully recited them poem, then looked at him excitedly afterward.

"Wow! That was amazing! Thank you for learning that for me!"

Sam blushed. "I tried. I read it in front of Gilbert about a million times to make sure I got it right."

Joon pulled Sam into a hug. "This is such a wonderful present– the best I've ever received! Thank you so much." She kissed him on the cheek.

Sam kissed her back, and then cleared his throat. "There's, um, one more thing." He stood up from the table, pulled the box out of his pocket and got down on one knee. Sam opened the box, showing Joon the beautiful antique diamond ring it held.

"Joon Pearl… Will you do me the honor of being my wife?" He asked. His hands were shaking and he knew it, but he hoped Joon wouldn't notice.

Joon's jaw dropped. "Oh my Lord. Thank you!"

Sam hadn't expected that answer. "So… Yes or no?"

"Oh! Yes! Yes I will be your wife! Of course!"

Sam smiled and slipped the ring onto Joon's finger, then stood up and pulled her up with him. He leaned in, and the two shared a passionate kiss.

"Scratch what I said before," Joon said, when they were finished. "_This_ is the best present I've ever gotten." She studied the ring. "Where'd you get this? It's so unique!"

"It was my grandmother's engagement ring. It's very special to me… and I wanted you to have it."

"Thank you, wow."

Sam and Joon sat back down, both filled with excited, nervous energy.

"I was thinking, maybe we could get married in April? Before the baby's born?" Sam asked.

Joon's eyes lit up, "I think that's a great idea. I was thinking the same thing, actually, that maybe we should get married before he's born, but I didn't want to push it on you."

"He?"

"I think the baby's a boy."

"Why?"

"Just seems that way. I can't explain it."

"Oh, okay."

"Maybe we could get married at your church? Do you think… Do you think the pastor will perform the ceremony? Since… Well… The situation we're in isn't exactly acceptable at all churches."

"He's pretty open-minded. I think he'll do it."

"Awesome. Oh, man, I can't wait to tell everyone! OH! I have to go call Benny!" Joon exclaimed, jumping up from the table. She headed to the phone.

Sam could hear her talking excitedly to her brother from the other room. He smiled to himself, everything having gone smoother than expected.

While Sam and Joon were enjoying their post-engagement bliss, back at the shelter, Jack was meeting with Dr. Schnabel about getting his eyes checked.

"I'm not an optometrist, so I can't do an exam on you. I know of a good one, though, about two towns over. I knew her back in Germany in the 80's. Nice lady. A bit strict, but overall nice."

"Can you give me a ride, then? I don't have a driver's license." Jack asked.

"Well, the other problem is that you don't have the insurance that would cover it, so it's going to cost you money to see her. You went to marriage counseling for free because Dr. Zand is an old friend, but I don't know Dr. Altenkirtch that well."

"Angelica probably has some of our old loot stored away. I'll ask her. So, can you take me?"

Dr. Schnabel shrugged. "Sure. Make an appointment ASAP."

It turned out that Dr. Altenkirtch had an available spot two hours from when Jack called. He rushed to call Angelica, who brought over some money, but there wasn't as much as Jack had hoped. A lot of the extra cash they'd had had gone to Angelica's airfare to get back to see Jack, and to the rent for the apartment she was staying in so she could be nearby. What she gave him just about covered the exam and a cheap pair of glasses, if he ended up needing them.

Jack felt bad about taking the last of their money, but he realized that it wouldn't do much good to let his eyesight keep getting worse, and potentially causing accidents. He could accidentally trip over the cat again and injure his baby, for instance.

Angelica accompanied Jack and Dr. Schnabel to the optometrist and they made it to her office just in time for Jack's appointment.

The doctor – a small, thin woman with blonde hair and a thick German accent pulled them into her exam room. She did a number of vision tests on Jack, and he failed just about every single one.

"Ja, your vision is bad. I'm surprised you can see eins meter in front of you."

Jack frowned. "Well, I can see colors and basic shapes…"

The doctor shook her head. "Das ist nicht gut."

"Come again?"

"She said that this isn't good," Dr. Schnabel translated.

"Ja. You need glasses," Dr. Altenkirtch added, "Ve have many choices in the other room."

Jack, Schnabel, and Angelica all followed the doctor in. Dr. Altenkirtch pointed to a specific wall. "These are the cheap ones."

"Hey, I can afford decent glasses-" Jack started, but Angelica put her hand over his mouth.

"No you can't," She said.

Jack glared at her, but said nothing.

Angelica and Jack wandered over to the 'cheap' wall and took a look.

"Check it out! Hipster glasses!" Angelica handed Jack a pair of thick rimmed glasses.

Jack tried them on. They fit the frame of his face pretty well and actually looked good.

"Wow. Got it right on the first try!"

"I know what I'm doing, _mi amore_," Angelica replied, smiling.

"But now everyone's going to think I'm a hipster."

"I'm sure the dreadlocks and total lack of hygiene will throw them off a bit," Dr. Schnabel said.

"Oi. I bathe," Jack replied.

Angelica snorted. "Thankfully my sense of smell isn't that good."

"What is this, 'attack Jack Sparrow day'?" Jack asked, feigning annoyance. "Well let's just pay for these and get out of here, then, so I don't have to deal with any more insults."


	24. Chapter 24

******A/N: Phish Tacko beta'd this. Go check out her page, she's an awesome author!**

**Chapter 24**

Sam didn't come back to the shelter until later that evening, and when he did, he found everyone in the common room, staring at him when he walked in.

"What's up, guys?" Sam asked.

"How'd it go?" Ichabod asked, voicing what was on everyone's minds.

"She said yes!" Sam said, beaming.

There came a wave of congratulations from the group. Jack, who was wearing his new glasses, even gave Sam a hug.

"That's great, mate," He said. "When's the wedding?"

"We're going to get married in April, before the baby comes. You'll all be invited, of course. Oh, and nice glasses, Jack!" Sam said, turning his attention to the pirate.

"Thank you. Angelica picked them."

Sam smiled at him, "They suit you. Sort of. In a weird way, it works. Hey, has anyone seen Mort or Mr. Todd? I wanted to go tell them the news."

"Sweeney's upstairs. But I warn ya, he's all doped up on whatever Schnabel gave him because he broke his leg." Jack nodded. "Broke it in three places, he did. He was in a lot of pain."

"Ouch," Sam replied. "And Mort' s still in bed?"

"He's taking care of Anakin," Edward answered.

"I guess I'll go see them both later, then."

"Actually you might want to go see Mort now. He was really upset earlier. I think the constant confusion and taking care of the baby is draining him. Might be nice for him to see a friendly face."

Sam nodded, "Alright, then. See you guys later."

Sam entered Mort's temporary room to find the writer sitting on his bed, wiping his eyes. He looked like he'd been crying. Sam instantly regretted not knocking before he'd come in. He'd just been excited, was all.

Mort looked up when he saw the door open.

"Hey, Mort," Sam said, softly, "I'm sorry to interrupt you…"

Mort sniffled. "No, no. It's okay." Sam could tell that he was trying his best to appear calm.

"I just came in to tell you that Joon said yes!" Sam said, happily.

"Joon… Joon… I'm sorry, who is Joon, and what did she say yes to?" Mort asked.

"She's my fiancée, and she said yes to marrying me."

Mort's face fell a little bit. He felt like he should've remembered that.

"That's great, man," Mort said, forcing a smile. "I'm happy for you."

"Thank you."

Right then, Anakin started whimpering again.

"Not again…" Mort said, looking at the baby. "Can you hand him to me? I would get him myself but I'm still not feeling great."

"Sure." Sam walked over to the crib, picked Anakin up, and handed him to Mort. The baby instantly began crying harder.

"Fuck… fuck, he doesn't stop!" Mort moaned, tears flooding his eyes once again. "What do you want?" He asked the baby. Then he looked back up at Sam with tears running down his cheeks. "Why won't he stop?"

Sam frowned, and took the baby from Mort. He began rocking the little one back and forth, but the baby kept crying. "He doesn't smell like he needs a change… I think he's just hungry." Sam said.

"I just fucking… I just fed him like 15 minutes ago!" Mort replied, getting a little bit more hysterical. "He's always crying! Always! I can't… I can't take it! I can't even sleep for an hour without him going off!"

Sam looked at Mort, then at Anakin, unsure of who he should try to help first. He decided on giving the baby some formula.

"I'm going to go get Anakin a bottle, okay?" Sam asked, holding the infant close to his chest. "Just try to relax, Mort. I'll be back in a minute. Here," He reached down, pulled a tissue from the box next to Mort's bed, and handed it to him. Mort accepted it gratefully and immediately started to cry again.

"It'll be okay. I promise. I'll be right back."

Sam came back into Mort's room a few minutes later, with a noticeably calmer Anakin in his arms.

"He was just hungry," Sam said, taking a seat next to Mort's bed. He continued to feed the baby. "Are you okay?"

Mort had stopped crying, but his face was still red and his eyes were puffy.

"This kid is running me ragged, and I don't even really know how to do half the things he needs! Ashley usually does it. How am I going to take care of him once I've recovered? Fuck… I don't even remember half the people's names here, how am I going to remember to take him to the doctors or change him or any of that?

Sam could tell that Mort was starting to get upset again.

"Mort. Take a deep breath," He instructed. "Getting hysterical isn't going to solve any of your problems."

Mort breathed in and out a few times, trying to calm himself.

"I'm sorry," He finally said. "It's just… I barely even remember being pregnant… it's just been hard lately…"

"I understand. You really have to try to stay calm, though. You know, like that saying, 'keep calm and carry on'?"

"It's easier said than done…"

"I know. I'm really sorry for everything that happened to you," Sam said. Anakin finished his bottle, and he put it down, the held the baby up to burp him.

"Ew," Mort said, watching as the kid spit up a little on Sam's shirt. "He ruined your shirt."

Sam shrugged. "It's Gilbert's shirt and it'll come out. He would've just kept crying if I didn't do it."

"Babies can be kinda gross."

"They can't help it, you know. You were a baby once too and someone had to feed you and burp you and change you."

"But they PLANNED for it. I didn't want this."

Sam shook his head, and looked down at Anakin, who was starting to go to sleep. He was grateful that the boy didn't understand anything that was being said around him.

"I don't think any of us planned to be pregnant, but it is what it is. If it really bothers you that much, then maybe you should consider adoption."

Mort's eyes got wide. "I can't believe that you'd suggest that I put my own son up for adoption."

"You just essentially said that you don't like dealing with him, so why not give him to a family that would WANT to do so?" Sam knew his words were a bit harsh, but he was trying to make a point.

"I couldn't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because I love him! He's my son!" Mort sounded like he was starting to get upset again.

"So there you go. Once you get used to everything… the feedings and changing, it won't be so bad."

Mort sighed. "Yeah, I guess."

Sam smiled at him, "He's a good little boy. He looks just like you."

"Thankfully. Would've sucked if he got my ex-wife's genes."

Sam laughed a little. "Fair enough." He handed the sleeping baby back to Mort.

Mort looked at the little boy, leaned down, and gently placed a kiss on his forehead.

00

All was calm in the shelter for another few days. Mort was starting to get the hang of dealing with Anakin, though his memory still wasn't totally clear.

Sweeney was also still not feeling great. Besides the constant dizziness, his leg hurt like hell, and if he so much as turned the wrong way in bed, horrible pain would shoot up it. Schnabel had given him some pain medication, but there was only so much he was allowed to take, being pregnant and all. The whole experience left him in a really, really bad mood and Ashley was taking the brunt of it.

Meanwhile, knowing he was due to give birth in approximately two weeks, Wonka was still in the process of ensuring that his factory was ready. Schnabel also called him in for a final physical, just to ensure that Wonka was still healthy and that there would hopefully be no complications during the delivery.

Wonka still didn't trust Schnabel, and he made this fairly clear, insisting that Ashley be there for his physical as well. It was kind of a dick move; even Mort had forgiven Schnabel for his mistake (not before Schnabel had promised him residence for however long he needed, though).

Because of his distrust for the doctor, Wonka asked Ashley to repeat every action that the doctor did.

Schnabel took his blood pressure once, and Wonka insisted that Ashley do it again. Same thing with his temperature and pulse. The only thing he didn't ask her to do was re-read off his weight off the scale when Schnabel made him get on. That was the only thing he was truly embarrassed about. Eight and a half months pregnant or not, being 189 pounds made him feel like a whale and he didn't want Ashley to see the numbers.

The doctor did one last ultrasound, showing that the baby – Rae, as Wonka now referred to her – was fully developed. Schnabel listed Wonka's due date as 2 March, only thirteen days away. If the baby didn't come by two weeks after that, Schnabel would induce it, for the health of Wonka and the baby.

"Overall, it looks like you're perfectly fine," Schnabel said, adding a note to Wonka's chart.

Wonka looked at Ashley. "Is he correct?"

"Yes, Willy," She said, starting to get tired of this game.

Dr. Schnabel rolled his eyes, but continued anyway. "After you give birth you'll have to rest for about two days, give or take, depending on how you feel. After that, you'll be free to leave the shelter."

Wonka nodded. He was happy about being able to go back to his factory soon, but he knew he'd miss everyone he'd been staying with. They were like a family to him, by then.

"Are you okay?" Ashley asked, noticing the wistful look in Wonka's eyes.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking is all. I'll miss everyone here."

"Aw, we'll all miss you too. You can always visit, though. And we'll all be at Sam's wedding in April so we'll see you there too."

"I know. It's just not the same."

00

The day that Wonka had his exam, Sam and Gilbert went up to visit Sweeney. They, along with everyone else, had been afraid to go see him because they'd heard reports of the terrible mood he was in. Ashley had been the one mainly dealing with him.

Still, they decided it would be nice to go see him. He had to be lonely. Anthony hadn't even come around in a while. As an attempt at making it a good visit, they ordered some Chinese food to bring up to him, so he didn't have to eat the usual stuff that Schnabel cooked for lunch.

Gilbert knocked on Sweeney's door, expecting to get yelled at or something thrown at him. Surprisingly, he answered calmly.

"Y'all can come in."

Gilbert and Sam looked at each other, a bit confused, but said nothing as they walked in.

"Hey Mr. Todd," Gilbert said. "We bought you some Chinese food for lunch. You look good," He commented. The barber had combed out his hair, looked like he'd gained a little weight – his cheekbones were sticking out like knives anymore, and he wasn't as pale as he was previously. He was still quite pallid, of course, but at least he didn't look like a corpse.

"Thanks," Sweeney said, taking the tray of food from Sam. "Whoo, General Tso's!"

"Seemed like you'd like that," Sam remarked, as Sweeney dove into the food.

"Take a seat," Sweeney said, motioning to two chairs across the room.

Sam and Gilbert pulled them over next to Sweeney's bed.

"What's with the sudden change in demeanor? How come you're acting so nice?" Gilbert asked. Both he and Sam were thinking it, might as well find out.

"Pain meds," Sweeney said. "They make me feel a hell of a lot better. When they let me take them, of course. The rest of the time it's pure agony. You chose a good hour to come in. I just took them fifteen minutes ago."

"That makes sense," Gilbert replied.

Sweeney shrugged.

"How long is your leg going to be in a cast?" Sam asked.

"At least three months. And then I might have to get surgery after the baby is born if it doesn't heal right. I fucked it up pretty badly."

"That sucks," Gilbert said. "I guess you've been having some bad luck. Is Ashley at least a help to you?"

"She helps a lot. But it's humiliating. Imagine having some beautiful girl help you to the bathroom."

"Yeah, that does sound pretty sucky,"

"It is. I did this to myself, though," Sweeney said, finishing his food. "I'm an idiot. That's all there is to it."

Both Gilbert and Sam looked at the barber in shock. Sweeney rarely ever admitted to being wrong about anything.

"What?" Sweeney asked, handing the tray back to Sam.

"Just. You never… Oh, never mind," Sam said, not wanting to insult his friend.

"Okay. How's Mort doing?"

"He's well. He's been taking care of Anakin." Sam decided not to mention Mort's breakdown, if only because he didn't want to upset Sweeney.

"Great. Do you think he could come visit me sometime? It's kinda… lonely up here." There was a pleading look in Sweeney's eyes, and Gilbert and Sam instantly felt sorry for him.

"Doctor Schnabel says he should be physically recovered within the next few days. I'm sure he'll come see you then, and you can meet Anakin too."

"Anakin?"

"Oh, no one told you? He named the baby Anakin Skywalker."

Sweeney considered this for a moment before he burst out laughing. "Seriously?"

"Yep. Anakin Skywalker Rainey."

"Wow."

"Well, it's Mort. Did you really expect him to name his kid something normal?" Gilbert asked.

"Good point."

The conversation was then interrupted by a knock at the door.

"It's Ashley!" The nurse called. "You need your bath!"

"Ugh," Sweeney sighed, under his breath. "Just kill me now."


	25. Chapter 25

******A/N: Phish Tacko beta'd this. Go check out her page, she's an awesome author!**

**Chapter 25**

It was now February 23, and a lot was going on.

In the morning, the group had eaten breakfast together. Mort had been able to attend as well, having gotten back to his old room a few days prior. Sweeney was the only one missing.

Schnabel, Ashley and the rest of the group had secretly planned out a baby shower for Willy, set to take place later that day. Edward had had the job of keeping Willy occupied so that everyone else could set up the common room for the party. They'd also intended to give Mort a few things, but he had no idea about this, he just thought that the party was for Wonka and Wonka only.

Katrina had decided to visit Ichabod that day, so he wasn't participating in the decorations. Instead, the two of them had gone off to his room. Katrina had mentioned that she had some information to share and that it would be best to discuss it in private.

"What'd you want to discuss?" Ichabod asked, once they were alone.

"Well… remember at counseling, we sort of talked about you going on birth control?" She reached into her bag, and pulled out a few brochures. "I did some research and these three medications have the best reviews."

Ichabod sighed but took the brochures anyway, and began reviewing them.

"Did you look at the side effects for these?" He asked, a few minutes later.

"I did. And I think that the usefulness of the products would outweigh the potential side effects."

"Some of these can be pretty bad, though… I really don't know if I want to put my body through this, Katrina."

"The alternative is that you could have a vasectomy."

"Seriously?" Ichabod asked, in awe that his wife would suggest he do something so extreme. "You seriously don't care about my wellbeing whatsoever, do you." The last part was more of a statement than a question.

"Oh, Ichabod, of course I care! I just don't want you to have any more babies once this one's out," She said, resting a hand on his belly.

Ichabod closed his eyes, trying to push down the anger he was feeling.

Finally, he spoke up. "In the interest of keeping our marriage together, I will promise to try the medication after I give birth. However, if the side effects are too much, I expect you not to pressure me to continue with it."

Katrina frowned. "Well… okay."

'We'll see,' She thought to herself, but better not to argue now.

"Fine, then."

Katrina nodded.

"We're having a party for Willy and Mort today," Ichabod asked, changing the subject. "Are you going to stay for it?"

"Probably. Wait, is that bitch Angelica going to be there, too?"

"I'd assume so. Jack invited her. You know, it would be nice if you could try to get along with her."

"I don't like her, with her curvy body and whorish ways."

Ichabod tried not to laugh. "_She's_ whorish?"

Katrina glared at him.

"Are you sure you're just not jealous?"

"Of what? Why would I be jealous of her?"

"I don't know. I'm just saying. You seem to dislike her a lot."

"I am most definitely NOT jealous," Katrina said.

"Alright, alright, calm down."

Katrina shook her head, and crossed her arms, "I can't believe you sometimes, Ichabod. Some husband you are! Suggesting that I'm jealous of that... Of that… of HER!"

It was all Ichabod could do not to roll his eyes. Yeah, HE was the terrible spouse. Right.

00

The party started around 2pm. Perfect timing. Edward had been slowly running out of ideas to keep Wonka occupied in another room, and had resorted to trying to force conversation with him, which was just awkward because Edward wasn't particularly good at talking.

Finally, at 1:55, Edward invited Wonka to get some lunch in the kitchen. They had to go through the common room to get there, and Wonka walked out to find the place covered in pink ribbons and decorations. There was even a pink chair with a sash labeled "Mom to be" with the "mom" crossed out and the word "dad" scribbled in.

Everyone was there, too. Ashley had brought Sweeney downstairs, Anthony and Johanna had come, Angelica and Katrina were there, and so were Joon and Becky and Arnie. Even Charlie was there! Wonka was amazed.

"This is for me?" He asked, shocked.

Edward nodded. "Yes, we all got together and did our parts. We wanted to give you a proper party."

"Wow…" Wonka said under his breath. Charlie came forward, gave Wonka a side hug, and led him over to the chair with the pink ribbons on it. Wonka couldn't help but blush as he sat down. It seemed like everyone was staring at him, and in his current state, the last thing he wanted was to be stared at.

"Well… What do I do?" He asked, confused.

"We're going to have food, then play games, then presents, then more food, then maybe some movies about babies," Angelica answered. She'd helped to plan a lot of the party out.

"O-okay," Wonka replied.

"First, food." Angelica pointed over to a table that was laid out, buffet style.

Being basically the hostess of the party, Angelica waited until everyone had gone up to get some food before getting some herself.

This did not please Katrina one bit. She disliked Angelica getting to be in the limelight, while no one even bothered to look at her. Katrina waited for Angelica to start walking over to the table, before getting up herself. She stood directly behind Angelica.

"Do you want to go first?" Angelica asked nicely. She didn't like Katrina but was trying to be decent for Wonka's sake.

"No," Katrina replied.

Angelica shrugged. "Okay."

There wasn't much food left by the time the two women had gotten up to the table. Everyone must've been starving.

Angelica was grabbing the last bit of baked ziti, when she felt someone nudging her.

"Taking everything, then?" Katrina asked.

Angelica sighed. This bitch was getting on her last nerve.

"I offered to let you go first," Angelica countered.

"The polite thing for a hostess to do would be to ensure that all of her guests receive an adequate amount of food."

Angelica shook her head. "All right, fuck this." She looked at Wonka, "_Lo siento_, Willy, but this _puta_ is going down." She took her earrings out and handed them to Jack. "Jack, hold my hoops." Immediately after she said those words, Angelica tackled Katrina to the floor.

A cat fight ensued. Angelica had Katrina pinned down for a while, and had been repeatedly bashing her head into the carpeted floor, but Katrina eventually got out of Angelica's grasp and turned the tables. She was pulling the decorative feathers out of Angelica's hair, while screaming 'YOU FUCKING BITCH!' when Angelica reached for Katrina's head. In one strong tug, she managed to lock her fingers into Katrina's weave and pull it out, revealing her to actually have short frizzy hair.

Katrina stood, shocked for a moment, before deciding to retaliate.

"I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU!" She yelled, throwing herself at Angelica.

"Give it a try, you skinny _puta_!" Angelica yelled back, shoving Katrina to the floor. "You're bantha fodder!"

Then a voice came from the group of men, who were standing across the room, just staring.

"STOP FIGHTING!"

Both Katrina and Angelica looked up to see Anthony yelling at them.

"Don't you make me use pepper spray!"

"Fuck off," Katrina answered before kneeing Angelica in the stomach. The Latina doubled over in pain, but recovered quickly, and once again pinned Katrina to the ground.

Anthony shook his head. "I wish it hadn't come to this." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a can of pepper spray. It wasn't hard to spray both women in the eyes; they'd been paying more attention to their own fight than to anything else.

The pepper spray caused both ladies to immediately stop fighting. Both were shrieking in pain, the pepper spray having irritated their eyes tremendously.

"You bitches ought to be ashamed of yourselves, fighting at a fucking BABY SHOWER, of all places! Act your age, damn it!" Anthony placed his hands on his hips and turned back to Johanna. "These women are crazy. I'm callin' 1-800-choke-dat-ho."

Angelica wandered back over to Jack, who went to get her a napkin and a glass of water to clear her eyes, and Katrina eventually found Ichabod.

"I can't believe you didn't' stand up for me!" She spat at her husband.

"You started the fight yourself!" He replied. "You did this! What would I stand up for you for?"

"Ugh, you're a terrible husband, do you know that?"

Ichabod shook his head. "Can we not do this while everyone is watching?"

Indeed, most of the crowd had turned towards Ichabod and Katrina.

"Whatever. I'm done here. I'll see you tomorrow," Katrina said, wiping her eyes with her shirt. She bent down and picked up the pieces of her weave before stalking off.

"Wow," was all Wonka said. He was still sitting in his pink-covered chair.

No one really knew what to say.

Finally, Jack spoke up. "I don't think anyone's in the mood to party anymore… So… Willy, there's some gifts for you under the table, and Mort, we all got you some gifts for Anakin, too. It was supposed to be a surprise, but… uh… yeah."

Wonka nodded, and started looking through the pile of gifts. Mort joined him shortly thereafter. The both of them opened the boxes silently, after everyone else had left.

A few hours later, Edward, Sam, and Joon all sat in the dining room, just talking.

Edward rarely opened up to people, but for some reason he felt comfortable around Sam and Joon and didn't feel afraid to voice his concerns.

"I dunno what I'm going to do when the twins are born," He said sadly. "Maybe Dr. Schnabel will let me stay here, I guess. But how will I raise them?"

"Will the other parent help you at all?" Sam asked, taking hold of Joon's hand under the table. They'd discussed asking Edward if he wanted to stay with them, but wanted to fully understand his situation first.

Edward suddenly looked like he was about to cry. "He… doesn't… He didn't… I mean… I didn't want to… With him… And that's why I'm here…"

It took Sam and Joon a moment to decipher what Edward was trying to say, but they got it.

"You mean someone raped you?" Joon asked.

Edward nodded. "Don't tell anyone, please."

"Who did it? Oh, Edward, I can't believe you've kept this to yourself for six months…"

"Someone who doesn't like me. I didn't want to bother anyone with it… It was easier not to mention it… And the doctor never asked."

"So you know the person?"

"I know him. Please don't tell anyone," He pleaded again.

"It's not our place to tell anyone," Sam said. "But, um, we were actually discussing something…" He looked at Joon, who nodded in confirmation. "We have an extra two rooms in our house, and we wanted to know if you'd like to come live with us. You and your kids, of course."

Edward was completely caught off guard and his mouth hung open. "…Really?" he asked, surprised that anyone, even Sam, would be so kind to him as to offer him a place to live.

"Yes. Plus, we could help you with your babies, too, since you might have some… problems," Sam chose his wording carefully, "And, we live in a different town so… With what you just told us… You may be safer farther away from the person who… did this to you."

"You'd actually do that for me…?" Edward asked, still in shock.

Sam and Joon both nodded 'yes'.

For the first time in a while, Edward smiled. "I'd like that."

"Great. The only problem is, you're due before Sam is… I'd prefer if you came after he had his baby, so it's not just the two of us and your kids in the house," Joon said. "No offense, just, I'd prefer if my husband was there. Not that I don't trust you." She stumbled over her words.

Edward considered this for a moment. "I understand. Maybe the doctor will let me stay here for a few more months, until Sam delivers his baby?"

"I'm sure he will. Dr. Schnabel's a good man. He wouldn't let you live in the streets."

"Okay. Thank you," Edward said, smiling again. "I promise I'll be quiet…I won't bother you…"

Joon smiled at him. "We have no doubts that you will be easy to live with. And hey, our kids can all play together!"

"Yeah! That's great! My kids will have a friend!" Edward said. He realized how awkward that probably sounded by the weird looks Joon and Sam were giving him. "I mean. I don't have many friends, so I want them to have friends."

"I'm sure they'll all get along," Sam replied.

"Do you know if you're having a boy or a girl?"

Once again, Sam and Joon looked at each other.

"It's a girl," Sam answered. "But please don't tell the other residents. We're trying to keep it quiet."

Edward nodded in understanding, "My lips are sealed."


	26. Chapter 26

******A/N: Phish Tacko beta'd this. Go check out her page, she's an awesome author!**

**Chapter 26**

Time seemed to go by really fast for everyone at the shelter, and before they knew it, March had come. That meant that most of the residents only had a few short months before they would deliver, and Wonka only had two days until he was supposedly due.

The candy maker really couldn't wait to get baby out of him. He had little to no energy lately, and generally felt a combination of ugly, heavy, and slow every minute of every day. Plus, the baby was constantly kicking him, especially at night when he tried to sleep – which was near impossible. Ever since he'd hit seven months, it'd gotten harder and harder to lay down flat on his back.

Further, none of his clothes fit right. Charlie had brought him some cheap, XL sized tee shirts and some maternity pants, and he'd been wearing them, but hated every second of it. Wonka was very particular about how he dressed and if being 9 months pregnant didn't make him feel totally unattractive, then being forced to wear stretch pants definitely did.

So, on March 2nd, Wonka was hoping and praying that little Rae would make her appearance in the world. But, by the end of the night, he knew it wasn't happening.

'Maybe I'll get woken up by contractions,' He thought to himself hopefully. After all, the baby was full term… there was no reason for it to stay in.

By March 4th, he was getting annoyed. He still hadn't gone into labor. Dr. Schnabel had given him another exam, just to see what was going on, and aside from the fact that he'd gained four more pounds (a fact that made Wonka want to bash his face into the wall near the scale), everything seemed fine. The baby just wasn't ready to come out.

Dr. Schnabel assured him that if he didn't go into labor by March 15th, he would induce. Wonka prayed that it wouldn't come to that. The sooner that Rae was born, the sooner he could go back to living a semi-normal life.

After the exam, Wonka walked/waddled down to the common room, hoping that some television might take his mind off of everything. Jack, Gilbert, Ichabod, Mort, and Anakin were all there, watching an episode of 30 Rock. Wonka took a seat near Gilbert.

"No baby yet, I see," Jack pointed out.

Wonka couldn't help but scowl. "Not yet."

"I heard spicy food helps induce labor. Spicy food and licorice," Ichabod said.

"I heard exercise helps too," Gilbert added.

"Great. Anyone have some curry and licorice? Maybe we can do some jumping jacks afterward!" Wonka replied sarcastically.

"Just saying," Gilbert said, "Maybe you should try it."

Anakin started crying again, something which just frustrated Wonka more. Mort moved to calm the baby down, putting a pacifier in Anakin's mouth. It quieted the baby instantly.

"Well, enjoy your freedom while you have it," Mort said, looking at his son. "Taking care of an infant sucks the life out of you."

"I can tell," Wonka snipped, staring at Mort. The writer did seem very tired lately. He hadn't washed his hair in a long time and had bags under his eyes. Further, the stress of everything going on had had an effect on his appetite, and he lost whatever baby weight he'd gained and then some.

Mort just rolled his eyes, but said nothing. He knew Wonka was right. He did look like shit.

With Anakin now quiet, the rest of the group focused on the television.

A few minutes of sitting in one place proved to be too much for the chocolatier, though, and soon he was squirming around, trying to find a comfortable position.

"You okay?" Gilbert asked.

"Wonderful."

"Do you need help getting up or something?"

"No, I do not need help getting up," Wonka growled, trying his best to push himself up from the old couch. After three tries with no success, he finally gave up and held his hands out for Gilbert to help him. The redhead had him on his feet in no time at all.

"Thanks," Wonka mumbled, heading towards the door. He REALLY hoped that this baby came soon.

00

On March 14, the baby still hadn't come, and Wonka was far past feeling impatient. He wanted the kid out and he wanted the kid out NOW, but he still had yet to show even any signs of labor.

Good on his word, Dr. Schnabel made an appointment to start inducing the baby at noon on the following day.

The night before, Wonka lay in bed, thinking to himself. Within the next day or so, he'd be a father. His world would change. Rae would be the center of his life, and he would have to put her before everything else, including his own needs.

He glanced across the room, where Ichabod was sleeping. He was snoring like a bandsaw. Wonka sighed. He didn't get to sleep until closer to dawn.

At noon the next day, Ashley led Wonka into the room that she and Dr. Schnabel had prepared. Wonka had called Charlie a few hours before going in, to let him know what was going on. He'd offered to come be there, but Wonka refused, stating that Charlie needed to stay and take care of the factory.

Ashley and Dr. Schnabel, having had the whole thing planned out, managed everything very efficiently. By 12:05, Wonka was in a hospital gown, lying on the hospital bed where he'd be spending the next several hours.

At 12:15, Dr. Schnabel administered a first round of Pitocin intravenously. He would up the dosage throughout the day, until Wonka started having adequate contractions.

The first one hit around 12:45, and it was probably the worst pain Wonka had ever felt in his life. Worse than the time he'd gotten his hand caught in the Gobstopper machine. He couldn't help but groan as the pain coursed through him.

Ashley was right by his side as this occurred, and she offered him her hand so that he'd have something to hold on to. She was starting to regret that decision; he had almost broken her fingers and his water hadn't even broken yet.

At 1:15, Schnabel gave Wonka another dose, and this caused his contractions to become more frequent. Each one still hurt like hell, and Wonka was yelling loud enough that the other residents could hear him from the common room.

Still, he managed to pull through.

The doctor administered two more doses over the next several hours, but Wonka's contractions stayed the same after that. The doctor was befuddled.

"It seems like she just doesn't want to come out," He said, reviewing Wonka's chart.

"WELL, GET HER OUT," The candy maker yelled, "I DON'T WANT TO HAVE GONE THROUGH THIS PAIN FOR NOTHING!"

"Okay okay, don't worry. Sometimes this happens," Dr. Schnabel reassured him.

Wonka looked to Ashley, who nodded in agreement, "It's not that uncommon. I suppose the next step is an AROM," She said, looking at Schnabel.

"We'll continue the Pitocin for another two hours, if there's no improvement, then we'll do an AROM. I don't want to put him through that if I don't have to."

"Put me through what?!" Wonka asked nervously. "What are you going to do?!"

"Calm down, calm down," The doctor said, "We'll discuss the AROM if it gets to that point, but for now, we'll try some more IV drugs and see where it goes. Okay?"

"NOT OK."

Dr. Schnabel sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Alright, then. If you don't go into labor within the next two hours, we'll manually rupture the membranes that contain amniotic fluid. This is likely to break your water."

"Manually…?" Wonka asked, looking paler than usual.

Dr. Schnabel held up a stick that looked like a knitting needle. "We'll have to insert this."

"That looks painful."

"I'll give you an epidural so you don't feel it," Dr. Schnabel said. "But, again, we're not at that point yet. If nothing happens by 5:15, then we'll consider it."

"Okay… I wish I hadn't asked," Wonka admitted.

Dr. Schnabel just nodded. "Ashley, please give him 60mL of Pitocin."

Ashley got a needle ready, to insert into Wonka's IV.

The next two hours were about the same as the previous few. Wonka had a few contractions on and off, but, despite the highest dose of Pitocin, he did not go into labor.

Dr. Schnabel showed up in his room around 5:30. "We're going to do an AROM now. Ashley, please help Willy turn onto his side."

Ashley moved over and helped maneuver Willy so that he was lying on his left side. Having to have someone help him move was extremely embarrassing to him. He'd always been fit and able to get around.

"Okay," Dr. Schnabel said, once Wonka was in the correct position, "I need you to arch your back. I'm going to inject you with the epidural. You're going to feel a strong pinch as I thread the catheter in."

"Ow…" Wonka cried out, as the needle slipped into his body. "Fuck…"

Thankfully it was done within a few more seconds.

"You'll stop feeling pain in another few seconds."

The doctor was right, and the epidural kicked in soon, much to Wonka's relief.

"Okay, now we're going to do the AROM."

Even though he wasn't feeling any pain, the thought of having a needle stuck inside of him like that made him cringe.

"And you're absolutely sure you can't knock me out for this?" He asked.

"Sorry, but no."

Wonka sighed, as the doctor prepared the needle.

"Don't worry, it'll be worth it in the end," Ashley tried to reassure him. It didn't do much to help.

The procedure that Schnabel performed had worked soon enough and within another hour, Wonka was in labor. Still, it was going slow. Really slow. He could feel the contractions come and go but they didn't hurt. He was just uncomfortable.

Around 9 that night, Ashley suggested that they go for a walk, as it might help speed up the labor.

Since his legs were numb, Wonka needed Ashley to help him. Again, it wasn't painful, just uncomfortable, and somewhat embarrassing.

They'd gone up and down the hall a few times when they ran into Sam and Gilbert. Wonka could feel himself blushing as they approached him. Here he was, in a hospital gown, as big as a small house, and barely able to stand on his own. Wonderful.

"Hey, how are you?" Sam asked.

"Uh…" Wonka started. "I'm trying to get this baby out of me."

"Wow, yeah, you started at noon, right? Jeez," Gilbert remarked. "I hope she comes out soon too."

Just then, Wonka could feel another contraction coming on.

"Alright, let's get you back to bed," Ashley said, leading Wonka away. "We'll let you guys know when the baby is born," She addressed Sam and Gilbert.

"Good luck!" Both replied at the same time.

Once Wonka was safely back in bed, Ashley took a moment to talk to Dr. Schnabel.

"His contractions are speeding up and he's 6 cm dilated."

"What's that mean?" came Wonka's voice. "You can both talk to me, you know."

"It means you're probably going to have the baby within the next couple of hours."

"Thank God," Wonka sighed, feeling another contraction begin.

It was a lot of pushing, and it was very bloody, but at 12:01 am on March 16, Rae Starshine Anne Wonka finally entered the world.

The whole experience of labor had left Wonka extremely exhausted both physically and mentally, and in a really bad mood. It all changed when he finally got to hold his daughter. She had pale skin, like him, and light colored eyes.

"Wow," was all he said when Ashley placed the little girl in his arms for the first time.

"She's perfect!" Ashley exclaimed "You did a great job."

"She's so tiny."

"Yes, she's quite the little one."

At 16 inches long and 6 pounds even, the baby was pretty tiny.

"I guess I thought she'd be bigger. She FELT bigger when she was inside me."

"Well, imagine if she'd been as big as Anakin. Would've been harder to push out," Ashley said.

Wonka cringed. "Yeah, I guess that's true."

Everyone came to visit Wonka that day, knowing that he'd be most likely leaving the shelter the following morning. They played with the baby, and said their see-you-laters, as Wonka would be at Sam's wedding the following month. Not wanting to become emotional, Wonka left the shelter early the next day, without telling anyone.


	27. Chapter 27

******A/N: Phish Tacko beta'd this. Go check out her page, she's an awesome author!**

**Chapter 27**

As soon as he got back to the factory, there was work to start on. Charlie had taken over for the past nine months, and he'd done a good job, but Wonka was a perfectionist and there was much that he wanted to change.

After a quick hello to his workers and heir, he set to work, poring over the design plans for new candy that Charlie had approved in his absence, and making little notes and corrections here and there.

Between that, and Rae's constant fussing– she seemed to be rather confused by her new, brightly colored surroundings– Wonka was busy all day.

Charlie had checked in on him once or twice, bringing food and water with him, but it remained untouched as Wonka reviewed every single detail of every single document.

Sometime after eleven, Charlie came back into Wonka's office. He found the candy maker asleep at his desk, Rae sleeping in the bassinet beside him.

"Hey," Charlie said, shaking Wonka's arm gently.

Wonka cracked open his eyes. "Huh?"

Then he seemed to realize that he was still in his office.

"Oh… must've fallen asleep. It's been awhile since I've worked like this."

"Why don't you call it a night? Rae's nursery is all set up, and there's a bed in there for you if you want to spend the night in the same room."

Wonka nodded. "Sounds good." He hadn't even seen the room yet. He'd been too wrapped up in watching the baby and doing his work.

Charlie led Wonka down the hall and up a flight of stairs to a brightly colored room. The walls were painted sky blue, and there was a mural of clouds and a sun rising on the wall closest to Rae's crib. In the corner, there was a twin sized bed made up with darker blue blankets and dark blue satin sheets.

"Wow," Wonka remarked, "You did a great job with this."

"Thanks! Well, the oompa loompas did it. I just told them what to do."

Wonka put Rae down in her crib, as she was still sleeping, and began walking towards his own bed.

"Oh, I forgot to get pajamas…" He yawned.

"There's actually some sets of pajamas and a few outfits for Rae in those dressers over there," Charlie said, motioning at a white dresser on the other side of the room.

"You thought of everything!"

"I know you pretty well, Mr. Wonka," Charlie replied, smiling.

"Thank you again," The chocolatier said, yawning again.

"No problem. Have a good evening," Charlie said, making his way out. "See you in the morning."

00

As Wonka was going to bed, Gilbert was at the shelter and already asleep, but having the most terrifying dream of his life.

It started out with him in his bedroom, lying on his bed. Slowly, the room began to change colors, going from gray to orange to a bright hellfire red. And that was why the room was changing– it was on fire! He could feel the heat of the flames, but somehow they weren't actually burning him.

Instinctively, he tried to sit up, to get out of bed, but as he tried to move he felt something pushing him back down. Gilbert looked up to see… something… It had the body of a beautiful woman and half the face of one, too, but the other half of its face was destroyed, burned off and horribly disfigured. It had huge, twisted horns coming from the top of its head, and fangs. It was dressed in a toga, but instead of feet, it had hooves, and there was a tail coming from behind it.

"Get off me!" He tried to push the lady-demon off of him, but she wouldn't budge. "What do you want?!"

The demon said nothing, just leaned in and smiled its disgusting, horrible smile at him. Gilbert could smell the stink of sulfur coming off of it, and as it leaned in, he felt its hot breath on his skin.

His heart started beating faster and faster. He was terrified.

Then there came sounds from elsewhere in the room. He quickly glanced over, to see that the walls were now lined with several smaller demons, dressed in hooded robes, that were chanting something that sounded like it was in Latin.

"LET ME GO! PLEASE!" Gilbert shouted, as the demon that was on top of him began to nuzzle him. He wasn't sure if the demon was going to rape him or eat him, though he couldn't really tell which one would be worse. "Please, God, help me!"

"Your god can't help you, boy."

The demon began opening her mouth, which was a terrifying act in itself, as she was able to open her mouth as if she were a snake, unhinging her jaw enough to where she could probably fit an adult human down her throat.

"HELP ME!" Gilbert cried, but no one came.

He was sure that the demon was going to swallow him, or do something else to him, when he felt something shaking him. The shaking was soft at first, then it got harder. The movement brought Gilbert out of the demon world, and he opened his eyes to see Sam sitting on the bed next to him, looking extremely concerned.

"What happened?!" Gilbert asked, breathing heavily. Tears were filling his eyes and he felt like he was going to cry.

"You were yelling in your sleep," Sam answered.

"Oh… It was just a dream, then." Gilbert sighed shakily and wiped at his eyes.

Sam nodded. "Must've been a nightmare. Are you okay?"

Gilbert looked up at Sam, the look on his face saying something like 'no, I'm obviously not OK', though he didn't voice this himself.

Sam noticed it, though, and gently pulled Gilbert into a hug. Somewhat to his surprise, he felt Gilbert hug him back, resting his head on Sam's shoulder. Now that he was actually touching Gilbert, he could feel his body shaking. He really must've been terrified.

"It's okay," Sam whispered, holding Gilbert a little tighter. "It was just a dream is all."

Gilbert nodded. "It was horrible."

Sam nodded in acknowledgement, and began rocking back and forth very slightly, still holding onto Gilbert. "Just relax."

Within the next few minutes, Sam felt Gilbert's breathing slow, and his muscles relax.

"Are you ready to go back to sleep?" Sam asked, laying Gilbert back down.

"I'm tired, but I really don't want to."

"I can stay next to you if you want. You did it for me."

Even in the darkness, Sam could see Gilbert blush. "I'd… like that."

Sam smiled, and crawled into the bed next to Gilbert. "No worries. No demon will dare attack you when I'm around."

00

The next morning, Sam and Gilbert were woken up by the sound of footsteps, talking, and a baby crying in the hallway.

"Come on, Mort, it'll take twenty minutes at most," Sam could hear Ashley talking.

"What's the point? He didn't want to give me an exam when I was pregnant, why bother now? And- Oh, damn… Can you help me shut him up?" Mort asked, referring to Anakin, who was screaming.

"Give him his pacifier."

A second later, and the baby was quiet, probably because Mort had done as Ashley had suggested.

"I still don't see the point."

"Mort, you went into cardiac arrest three weeks ago. You _need_ to be checked out to make sure you're okay. Come on, I have to deal with Mr. Todd later today and Anthony's coming. Just get the exam and we'll move on, okay? We'll look at Anakin, too."

There was a sigh. "Fine. Whatever."

The footsteps then continued down the hall. Sam and Gilbert could hear the door to Schnabel's office open, and then close.

00

Once in Schnabel's office, Ashley closed the door behind her, Mort, and Anakin.

The doctor was at his desk, looking over Mort's file. Ever since the whole ordeal with his unexpected delivery, Schnabel had been taking extra precautions and watching Mort.

The doctor turned to the writer. "Hi, Mort. How are you doing this morning?"

Mort shrugged. "Okay, I guess."

"And how's Anakin?"

"He seems okay."

"Good. Well, first we'll examine you, then we'll look at your son." Schnabel pulled out his notebook. "Are you still feeling confused?"

"Always," Mort said, frowning slightly. "I mean, I'm getting better at remembering some things, like some people's names, but I forget them a lot too. I thought it would get better by now."

"It may just take more time," The doctor replied, writing something down, "If it still doesn't improve in a few weeks, we'll do a CAT scan and see if there's any extensive damage. For now, let's see how the rest of you is. You look very tired, are you sleeping well?"

"The kid keeps me up all night. It feels like every fifteen minutes, he's screaming."

"So you're not really getting much sleep, then."

Mort shook his head 'no'.

"Let me take your pulse, and check your blood pressure."

Mort held out his arm so that the doctor could do both.

"Your blood pressure is actually low, which is odd because it used to be high. Pulse is normal... Go over to the scale, please."

Mort handed Anakin to Ashley, and walked over. The doctor moved the numbers around.

"You're actually at the same weight as you were when you were one month pregnant."

"Oh, cool."

"It's fine, but just be careful, you really don't need to lose any more weight."

"Okay. I wasn't exactly trying to."

"I know. I think you're just overtired. You need to let your body rest. I know that's hard, with Anakin and all, but try to take a break when you can."

"Do you think I enjoy being this tired, Doc?" Mort asked, annoyed. Why would he _choose_ to feel like this?!

"No, no, I'm not saying that at all. I am just stating that you need to take care of yourself. Maybe we can find a daycare to send Anakin to for a few hours a day so you can get some rest."

"Because I have so much money put aside for that. You know I lost almost everything in the divorce."

The doctor sighed. "I owe you, Mort. I'd pay for it if it would help you."

Mort looked at the doctor suspiciously, as if unsure whether to believe him or not.

"Yeah, okay."

"Are you having any other problems besides being exhausted?"

"Hmm.. well..." Mort started, then stopped, deciding whether or not he wanted to tell the doctor anything.

"Well what? Please tell me. I need to make sure you're doing okay after what happened."

"I'm having some trouble seeing out of my left eye."

"Like, blurred vision?"

"Sorta. Yeah, I guess that's a good way to describe it. My right eye's fine, though."

"And it's constant?"

"Pretty constant. Occasionally I can see fine, but most of the time it's blurry."

The doctor nodded, "I think we need to schedule you for that CAT scan, then. It could be related to the fact that your brain didn't get oxygen for a few minutes."

"Great. That sounds enthralling."

"It's necessary. I will schedule it for later this week. Anything else I should know about?"

Mort shook his head. "Not that I can think of. Not that that really means much, all considering."

"Okay. Let's take a look at Anakin."

00

Mort's son ended up being, unlike his father, completely healthy, so his exam was done quickly.

The next on Schnabel and Ashley's list was Anthony and Sweeney.

As Anthony had yet to arrive, the doctor and nurse went up to examine Sweeney first. They found the barber lying in bed, playing on his laptop as usual.

"Good morning, Mr. T," Ashley said, putting the items she'd carried up down on the end table. Since Sweeney was on bed rest, they'd brought a manual blood pressure cuff, some needles and their files up with them to his room.

"Exam time, I presume," He asked, not looking up from his computer.

"Yep. Are you ready?"

"Give me a second... I just need to spam Jack with this one demotivational..."

Ashley and Dr. Schnabel waited as Sweeney sent out his emails, until he finally closed the computer.

"Okay. Done."

"Great. First, let me take your blood pressure," Ashley said. When Sweeney made no move to allow her to do this, she spoke up again. "May I see your arm?"

"It's right here. You can see it fine."

Ashley sighed. "Can we not make this difficult?"

Sweeney rolled his eyes and held his arm out. "Here."

Ashley took Sweeney's blood pressure. "Still a bit high, unfortunately."

"That's to be expected with Preeclampsia," Dr. Schnabel said. "It probably won't go back down until after Mr. Todd delivers."

"Great," Sweeney said sarcastically.

Ashley ignored him, and took hold of his wrist, taking his pulse. "Pulse is a little fast."

"How fast?"

"85 bpm."

"Hmm... Well, we'll have to watch that. It's not extraordinarily high, but it's not good either."

"More problems. Great," Sweeney remarked.

Once again, the doctor and nurse ignored him.

"We need to do an ultrasound to see how your baby is, but I can't do that here. Later today Ashley will take you down to my office in the wheelchair and we'll do it there."

"I look forward to it," Sweeney said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Aw, come on. Anthony will be here so you'll get to see him later at least."

Sweeney perked up a little at the mention of his friend showing up. "I forgot he was coming."

"He'll be here in a little bit. He's going to get an exam today too."

"Cool. Are we done now?"

"Yes," Ashley and Schnabel answered at the same time.

"Great." Sweeney looked at the doctor and nurse, then at the door, then back at the pair.

Schnabel rolled his eyes. "I can take a hint. See you later, Mr. T."

"See ya later, doc!"

00

Anthony showed up later in the morning, looking worse for the wear. Still, he seemed to have a positive attitude.

"Come on, Mr. Todd. It's just an ultrasound, it's not that bad!"

"It's invasive and I have to go downstairs to get it," Sweeney replied, crossing his arms over his chest, "And why are you so happy? You look like shit."

Anthony frowned, "I've actually not been feeling well lately, and the baby is growing faster than I'd anticipated. Having a crap attitude isn't going to help it, though. And you're up here all day! You can't seriously be so lazy now that going downstairs is a huge effort for you."

"You do look a bit further along than you are," Sweeney remarked, looking Anthony over. "And it's not a huge effort, just one that I'd prefer not to make, with my leg being the way it is."

"Right, well, if you want your baby to be healthy, you should do it without complaint."

"I'll remember that."

"Well, I have to be down there in five minutes. Do you want me to take you down as well, so Ashley doesn't have to?"

"Yes, please," Sweeney said. "The wheelchair's in the corner of the room."

Anthony walked over and got the chair, bringing it towards the bed. Three minutes of struggling, moaning, and yelling later, he'd gotten Sweeney into the wheelchair. They made it downstairs just in time for Anthony's exam to start.

"Time to get started," Anthony said, pushing Sweeney into the hallway outside the exam room. "I'll be right back."

"Oi!" Sweeney protested, "You can't just leave me here!"

"Sorry, exam time!" Anthony called back, closing the door to the office.

"Asshole," Sweeney muttered. "Great friend he is."

All was quiet for a few moments, before someone began shouting from inside the exam room.

"You have to be joking!"

"It's not a joke, Anthony."

"No way. There's no way. We'll barely be able to handle one kid, never mind two!"

Upon hearing this, Sweeney started eavesdropping on the conversation.

"I'm sorry," came Ashley's voice. "But you're having twins, and there's not much you can do about it."

Anthony stormed out of the room a moment later, passing Sweeney as he walked down the hallway.

"What about having a positive attitude?" Sweeney called out.

"Fuck your positive attitude," Anthony replied, stalking away.

00

After his own exam, Sweeney called Anthony numerous times, trying to see if he was okay. He didn't pick up until the eighth call.

"Yes?" Anthony asked.

"It's Mr. Todd. I just wanted to see if you were okay."

"Johanna and I are discussing the implications of having twins," Anthony answered. "You called at a bad time."

"Oh. Sorry."

"Listen, we'll come see you tomorrow, but I need to go now."

"Okay."

"Bye."

Anthony hung up before Sweeney could reply.

00

Miles away, at Wonka's factory, there was a bit of drama going on as well.

Charlie was really getting concerned about his mentor. Wonka hadn't come out of his office in days, except to go to sleep in Rae's nursery at night. He wasn't eating, as he was more concerned with his work than his health.

Around seven, he made another attempt at getting Wonka to eat something. He'd tried at breakfast and lunch, too, but had found the food disregarded on Wonka's desk.

"Mr. Wonka?" Charlie asked, knocking on Wonka's office door.

"Shh!" came the reply. "Keep quiet! You'll wake Rae up!"

"Sorry," Charlie whispered, slipping into the room. "I brought you some dinner."

Wonka looked up at him. "Thanks, you can just put it down on the other side of my desk." Immediately, he looked back down at his work.

"You mean near the other plates of food that you didn't touch?"

Wonka looked up at Charlie again. "I've been very busy, Charlie."

"You need to take some time for yourself, sir," Charlie said. "At least eat dinner. You need to have energy to continue you work and watch Rae."

Wonka sighed. "If I promise to eat, will you let me be?"

"Yes. Until tomorrow, at least."

"Okay."

Charlie handed Wonka the plate of food, watching as the chocolatier slowly took a bite. Satisfied that his boss would take care of himself, at least for the evening, Charlie left.

Wonka was about a quarter of the way through his meal when an error in an equation for a recipe caught his eye. Without a second thought, he cast his food aside to concentrate on the problem.

00

Night fell, and as Wonka crawled into bed, so did Gilbert at the shelter. He was incredibly tired, and hoped that he'd be able to sleep better that evening.

Unfortunately, the second he entered dream world, the nightmare started again.

There was the she-demon, in the same place as before, but instead of just nuzzling him, it had started licking him. Its saliva was like acid on his skin.

"WHY WON'T YOU GO AWAY?" Gilbert screamed, squirming to get out of the demon's grasp.

"Because I like you," The demon hissed. "I want you."

"I don't want you! Please, just let me be!"

The demon laughed, a horrible, screechy laugh that chilled Gilbert to his core. He almost expected bats or spiders to come out of the demon's mouth.

Once again, the other demons appeared around the room. Red and orange flames reached the ceiling, but nothing seemed to burn.

"STOP!" Gilbert cried. "Please, please stop!"

And then, he felt himself being shaken. Gilbert's eyes opened, and he saw Sam once again sitting on the side of his bed.

"Another nightmare?" Sam asked.

"It was horrible," Gilbert said, tears filling his eyes. "God. Sam, I'm so tired... and it won't stop..."

Sam frowned and helped Gilbert sit up. "Come here."

Gilbert leaned in, and Sam once again held him in a hug. He could feel Gilbert shake as the he began to cry on his shoulder.

"Shh… It was just a bad dream," Sam whispered, running a hand through Gilbert's hair.

"I just want to sleep..." Gilbert repeated, sniffling.

"I know, I know. I wish I could make the nightmares stop. Do you want me to pray for you?" Sam asked.

"Please. Anything. Just make it stop," Gilbert begged.

"Do you want me to stay with you tonight again?" Sam asked.

Gilbert nodded his head, which was still resting on Sam's shoulder. He sniffled again. "Please."

"Sure. It's okay. I promise."

"I hope..." Gilbert lifted his head and dried his eyes.

Soon enough he and Sam were lying down, his arm over Sam's stomach. Just having physical contact with someone else made him feel safer, and he was grateful that Sam was kind enough not to shake him off.

00

Dr. Schnabel had scheduled Mort's CAT scan for the middle of that week. It was the earliest appointment he could get, and they had to go to a local medical center to get it done, since Dr. Schnabel did not have such equipment in his own offices.

Mort had left Anakin in Sam's care for the time being. Sam seemed to like playing with the baby, and it gave Mort a few hours to himself. Even if he was going for a medical test, it was better than nothing.

Ashley gave Mort a ride to the medical center and went inside with him. After a few minutes of waiting, another nurse came out, and instructed Mort to go into a dressing room, remove any jewelry he might have on, and change into a hospital gown. Ashley waited outside the room for him, in case he needed help.

The LPN became a bit concerned when there came some aggravated grunting sounds from the dressing room.

"You okay, Mort?" She called.

Mort grumbled something in reply, but she didn't catch it.

"I didn't hear you."

"I said I need help getting this stupid hospital gown on!" Mort said, flinging the door open and almost hitting Ashley with it.

"Okay okay. Calm down. Here," She said, walking into the room with him. Mort was totally wrapped up in the fabric, his head through an arm hole. Without saying anything, Ashley began to wrangle Mort out of the tangled mess.

"Hey!" He said. "What's the deal?!"

"You have this on wrong," Ashley replied, as she successfully removed the gown.

Realizing he was standing there in his underwear in front of a beautiful young woman, Mort immediately blushed.

"Uh…" He started, looking down at the ground.

"I've seen all of you before, Mort, remember? I was there when you gave birth," Ashley said, keeping her professional demeanor. "Arms out."

Mort obeyed her request, and Ashley slipped the gown onto him and tied the strings that were near his shoulders.

"Turn around," She said, and again Mort did as he was told. Within a minute of having started, Ashley had him fully 'dressed'.

"Okay, you're good now."

"Thanks…" Mort mumbled, his cheeks still tinged red.

"They're waiting for you in the other room. Do you want me to go in with you?"

"You don't have to."

"Alright. I'll be right outside, than, in the same room as the tech who runs the machine. I'll be able to see and hear you if you need anything."

"Okay."

Ashley motioned towards a door. Mort walked into the room, where two more nurses and a doctor were waiting. The doctor, a young, blonde man with handsome features, extended his hand.

"Hi, I'm Doctor Nevins."

"Mort Rainey," Mort said, shaking the doctor's hand. He noticed that the doctor looked very young, younger than him, and that Ashley was staring at him from the computer room, starry eyed. He couldn't help but feel a strange sense of jealousy. Here was a guy who was handsome and far more successful than he was at a much younger age.

"Are you sure you're old enough to be a doctor?" Mort asked, half-jokingly, half seriously.

"Yes. I graduated from medical school three years ago. I'm definitely qualified to do this," the doctor replied.

"Great. Okay."

"So your forms say that you're here because you're experiencing blurred vision and memory loss?" Dr Nevins asked.

"Yes," Mort answered. "I went into cardiac arrest almost a month ago and have been having problems since then."

The doctor nodded, not looking even remotely shocked by the fact that such a young man was in such a condition.

"Okay. And this incident was related to you giving birth, correct?"

"It happened almost immediately after I gave birth to my son."

"Okay. Well, the CAT scan will show if there was any brain damage from the lack of oxygen to your brain during that time. Once we get the images back, we'll be further able to discern if the damage, if any, is permanent as well."

"You'll be doing that?" Mort asked, not entirely comfortable with this Ken-doll of a man giving him a diagnosis.

"I will be analyzing the images, but my partner will probably give you the diagnoses. He's got twenty five years as a neurosurgeon behind him."

"Okay," Mort said, feeling slightly better.

"For now, let's get started with the CAT scan. Please lie down on the table," Dr. Nevins said, walking over to a large, white table near an even larger machine.

Mort followed him, and one of the nurses helped him up onto it and helped him lay down in the correct position.

"Okay, Mr. Rainey. This table is going to retract into the machine," The nurse explained. "It's a tight squeeze, and you have to be sure not to move or the images will not come out clearly. The entire scan will take about fifteen minutes."

Mort glanced back at the machine, only now realizing how small the hole in it was.

"I don't know if I'm okay with this, actually," He said, trying to sit up.

The nurse gently pushed him back down. "Mr. Rainey, it is the most accurate way to see if you have any brain damage."

Mort sighed and laid back down. "But small spaces scare me a little."

"It'll only be fifteen minutes."

Before Mort could say anything else, the table started moving back into the CAT scan machine. Mort could feel himself get more nervous the farther his body was pushed into it. The space was too small. It started getting hard for him to breathe.

Then, the noises started. It sounded like someone was hitting the outside of the machine with a hammer. Mort's mind, already lost in panic, began racing even more so.

'What if something's wrong with the machine?!' He thought to himself. He began fidgeting.

"I want out of here." He called.

The doctor's voice came through the speakers. "We're only a minute in."

"I shouldn't be in here. Please, let me out!" It felt like the walls of the machine were shrinking around him, about to crush him. "I NEED TO LEAVE!" He squirmed frantically. "LET ME GO!"

When the table he was on didn't move, Mort started squirming more, trying to get out on his own. No way was he going to let this thing eat him.

The space was too tight for him to move, though, and soon enough he realized he was stuck there. Mort started to try and scoot out.

"LET ME OUT! PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, LET ME THE FUCK OUT!"

He was really getting hysterical. Tears began to well up in his eyes. This was too much.

Finally, the doctor relented, and the table started moving out of the CAT scan machine. By this point, Mort was reduced to a quivering wreck. As soon as he was out, he jumped up from the table, trying to get out of the room. His legs were shaking, though, and it made it a bit difficult to walk.

One of the nurses grabbed hold of his arm. "Mr. Rainey, you have to calm down," She said, her tone soft. "You're getting hysterical."

"I don't want to be in here. Let me go!"

The nurse didn't release her grip on him, though, and that just pushed Mort over the edge. He shoved the woman off of him and made a break for the door. From the corner of his eye, he could see Ashley speaking to the doctor in the other room. As Mort made his way towards the door, Ashley began walking out of the room. She was heading there as well. Mort swung open the door to find her standing there, along with Dr. Nevins.

"GET OUT OF THE WAY!" Mort yelled, trying to shove past them. Dr. Nevins was younger and stronger, though, and managed to pin Mort up against the wall.

"There's other patients back there. We can't let him go," The doctor said, "Sedate him, please."

Right then, Mort felt a sharp pinch in his side. One of the other nurses had made their way over and jammed a needle in him.

"Mr. Rainey, you're going to get very tired," The doctor explained, though to Mort it sounded like he was speaking through mud. He could feel himself getting weaker, his eyes closing…

A second later, Mort collapsed into Ashley's arms, unconscious.

00

Mort woke up a few hours later, on a hospital bed. Ashley was standing next to him.

"Good evening, sunshine," She joked. "Glad you're back with us."

"Ugh," Mort groaned. His head was pounding and his body felt weak. "What happened?"

"You don't remember at all?"

"Something about... a small hole... it felt too tight..." Mort thought for a minute. "The doctor knocked me out, didn't he."

Ashley nodded. "He had to. You were about to run into the waiting room where all the other patients were, and you were hysterical. Screaming and flailing and all that."

"Fuck."

"It's okay. He managed to do the CAT scan while you were out, so we're free to go back to the shelter whenever you feel well enough."

"Yeah, okay. What time is it?"

"Seven. You were out for about four hours."

"Fuck. I feel like I got hit by a truck."

"You were freaking out pretty badly and you're overtired as it is. I'll go get a wheelchair and we can head out, alright?"

Mort considered telling her not to, but he really did feel horrible. "Fine," He agreed.

Ashley returned a moment later with a wheelchair. "I'll help you," She said, reaching out to help Mort off the bed. He let her do so, though he found himself blushing again. He was tired of having this beautiful woman help him do everything.

'This must be how Mr Todd feels,' he mused to himself.

Ashley pushed him out to her car, and helped him into the passenger seat, going so far as to buckle his seatbelt for him.

"I have arms, you know," He snapped at her.

Ashley just stared at him. "I'm just trying to help you."

Mort's expression softened a bit. "Sorry."

"Yeah. I'll be right back." She took the wheelchair back inside, and the two drove back to the shelter in silence.

00

Mort and Ashley got back to the shelter just as Anthony and Johanna were walking in. The four of them greeted each other briefly as they walked in. Mort couldn't help but notice that both Anthony and Johanna looked extremely tired, probably more so than he did.

Once inside, Mort immediately went to find Sam and apologize for being gone so long, while Anthony and Johanna headed upstairs towards Sweeney's room.

They once again found Sweeney playing on his laptop, blasting rap music from it as he typed, as per usual.

"Hey," Johanna said, poking her head into his room. "Hope we're not interrupting anything."

Sweeney looked up at them and closed his laptop. "No, no. Just listening to some DMX. Come in."

Anthony followed Johanna in, and the girl went to pull chairs over for both of them.

"I heard you're having twins," Sweeney said, soon as Anthony and Johanna were seated.

"Yes..." Anthony answered. "Johanna and I discussed it." He reached out and took Johanna's hand.

"And what conclusions did you come to?"

"We're just going to have to try to save up even more than we thought. There's not much we can do. Johanna's going to try to get a second job, and I guess I'll see if I can reach out to anyone in my family, see if perhaps they'll loan us some money."

"I see. Well, you know, I'll help you in any way that I can," Sweeney said.

"You don't have to do that, Mr. Todd," Johanna answered, smiling. "That's a sweet offer but you'll have your own child to take care of, we couldn't possibly ask you for help."

"You're family. I'd do anything for my family," Sweeney replied, not making eye contact with the girl.

"That's nice that you consider us that," Anthony said.

Sweeney was silent for a moment, contemplating if he should tell Johanna that he was, in fact, her father. There probably would never be a good time to do so, so now was just as good a time as any.

"I mean...I'm literally your family," Sweeney finally said.

"I'm sorry?" Johanna asked. "I'm afraid I don't follow."

Sweeney looked up, and looked at her straight in the eyes. "I'm your father, Johanna."

Both Anthony and Johanna's mouths dropped open.

"R-really?" She asked, "This isn't some joke, is it? I've never known my father..."

"I'm not joking. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. Or you, for that matter, Anthony."

"So... that means you're going to be my father in law?!" Anthony asked. "Bugger..."

Sweeney nodded. "I know this is sudden."

"You're damn right it is," Johanna snapped. "I wish I'd known! I've always wondered where my father was... whatever happened to him... and you've been here all this time!"

Sweeney frowned, feeling bad for not telling her sooner.

His and Johanna's thoughts were interrupted by Anthony.

"So, besides being my father in law, you'll technically be a father and a grandfather at the same time. Man, that is… weird."

00

Mort found Sam and Anakin in the common room. Sam was holding the baby, feeding him a bottle, and rocking him gently.

"Hey, I'm really sorry for not coming sooner," Mort started.

Sam looked up at him. Mort noticed that he also looked very tired, and he briefly wondered why it was that everyone he crossed paths with seemed to look like shit lately.

"Did everything going okay?" He asked, concerned.

"Yeah, it was fine. Anakin was good." Sam handed the baby back to Mort.

"Oh, good. Are you okay? You seem out of it."

"Huh? Oh, I'm just a bit tired is all," Sam replied, rubbing his eyes.

"Baby keeping you up? Anakin used to kick the shit out of me when I was pregnant, not that anyone ever believed me on that."

Sam shook his head. "No... no, not that. It's a long story." He didn't think it was right to go telling everyone how Gilbert was keeping him up each night with his nightmares, so he left it at that. "I'll be okay, I just need to lay down for a little while."

"Okay. Thanks for watching Anakin. I owe you."

Sam shrugged. "No worries."

He made his way back to his own room, hoping that perhaps Gilbert wouldn't be there. He really just needed a few hours of uninterrupted sleep. Not that he'd ever tell Gilbert that. He'd never want to hurt his friend's feelings by making him feel like a burden.

Thankfully, the bedroom was empty. Sam took the opportunity to lie down. Within minutes of crawling into bed, he was asleep.

00

Not even four hours later, Sam found himself once again being woken up by his roommate. Gilbert was kicking and screaming again, probably having the same nightmare he'd been having for the past few days. Sam sighed, and forced himself to sit up. He was tired, and wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep, but he knew that wouldn't be possible with Gilbert freaking out the way he was. Also, it was only right to wake his roommate up... He didn't want Gilbert to be terrified all night.

As he'd done the previous evenings, Sam sat down on the edge of Gilbert's bed and shook him awake. The redhead's eyes shot open, and he looked up at Sam, seeming like he was about to cry again.

"Another nightmare?" Sam asked.

Gilbert swallowed, and nodded. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. Was it the same thing as last time, with the demon?"

"Yeah...God, it was so realistic..." Gilbert looked like he was still fighting back tears, probably trying to save face instead of breaking down again.

Sam said nothing, just rested a hand on Gilbert's shoulder, rubbing him gently. He tried to ignore it as Gilbert started crying quietly, but found he couldn't. It just felt wrong to leave him that way. Sam got up and got a box of tissues from the dresser and brought it over. He handed it to Gilbert, and began rubbing his shoulder once again, trying to calm him down.

"It was just a dream," Sam said. "You need to relax."

Gilbert sniffled. "I know, I'm so sorry I woke you up."

"It's alright."

Gilbert seemed like he wanted to say something else, but was holding back. Sam could guess what it was.

"Do you want me to stay with you again?"

"I don't want to bother you."

Sam took a deep breath, "It's fine. I'll just go get my blanket, okay?" He didn't feel like sharing a blanket with Gilbert tonight. The man tended to steal the covers and he didn't feel up to freezing his ass off again. He returned a second later, holding the blanket. "Scoot over."

Gilbert moved, letting Sam in. This time Sam didn't hold onto him, preferring to just try to get back to sleep. He closed his eyes, hoping his presence would simply be enough.


	28. Chapter 28

******A/N: Phish Tacko beta'd this. Go check out her page, she's an awesome author!**

**Chapter 28**

Sam had plans the next day to go looking for something to wear to his wedding. He'd been planning the outing for a few days and didn't want to postpone it, though it took all of his energy to drag himself out of bed. He managed to slip out without waking Gilbert and tiredly made his way down to breakfast. Ichabod and Edward were already at the table, and Ichabod was feeding Edward, as per usual.

"Good morning," Edward said, in between bites of toast.

"Morning," Sam said, pouring himself some cereal.

"Long night?" Ichabod asked, noting the bags under Sam's eyes.

"Yeah... really long," Sam said, stifling a yawn.

Ichabod nodded in understanding.

"I was going to go get myself an outfit for the wedding today, but I'm not sure if I'll be awake enough to pay attention to what I'm choosing," Sam continued.

"I can go with you, if you'd like," Ichabod offered.

Just then, Gilbert entered the room, apparently having woken up a few minutes after Sam.

"Hey," He said, softly, taking a seat near his friend.

"Hey." Sam replied, eyes fixed on his cornflakes.

"So... do you want me to go?" Ichabod asked, as Sam hadn't answered him.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, it would be great if you came with." Sam then noticed that Edward was looking down, at his hands on his lap, probably feeling left out. "Edward, it would be nice if you came along, too."

Edward seemed to perk up at being invited somewhere, even cracking a smile. "Sure."

"Cool. I figure we can head out around eleven... maybe take the bus down to the center of town?"

"Where are you guys going?" Gilbert asked, cutting into the conversation.

"We're going to get me an outfit for the wedding," Sam answered, still not looking at him.

"Oh. I can probably help you with that too," Gilbert said.

"If you want to."

Gilbert was pretty smart, and he realized right away that Sam was probably just being polite. He knew he'd been keeping Sam awake a lot lately.

"Actually... I forgot, I have to help Dr. Schnabel with some stuff today."

"Okay."

Ichabod and Edward watched the awkward exchange silently. Eventually, Sam finished his cereal, and got up from the table, cleaning the area around his bowl as he typically did. "So, see you at eleven, then?"

Both men nodded, and continued eating quietly. They pretended not to notice the hurt look on Gilbert's face as Sam walked away.

00

Sam, Ichabod, and Edward definitely stuck out like sore thumbs on the bus. Most people there were not used to seeing pregnant men, especially dressed the way they were. Sam had on a pair of gray sweats, a blue sweatshirt, a blue jacket and his hat. He was the only semi-normal looking one. Ichabod was wearing an ugly combination of maroon maternity pants and a orange shirt with a black jacket, and Sam secretly thought he looked like an overly colorful jack-o-lantern. He briefly wondered where Ichabod had even gotten those clothes from. They didn't look like anything that any store in their right mind would sell. Edward had on his black sweat pants and black and red shirt, which was now stretched far too tightly across him, and he had a sweater over that. It looked to be the one that Mort had lent to Jack, red with white snowflakes, and it, too was stretched far too tightly. With his messy hair and scissor hands, everyone seemed to be eyeing him the most, probably wondering if he was some psycho.

Sam ignored the dirty looks the other passengers were giving them, focusing on thoughts of his wedding and what type of clothing he wanted to get.

The bus dropped them off downtown, and Sam couldn't help but noticed the relieved looks on the faces of most of the passengers as the three of them stepped off.

They stopped at a department store on Third Ave. If anywhere would have a decent selection, this would be it. The menswear section was in the back of the store, and Sam was grateful that it was empty. He really didn't feel like being stared at anymore.

"What about this?" Sam asked, grabbing a gray suit. It had a bunch of pockets on it, and was obviously made for someone who wanted to look different from the norm.

"It's a bit much, isn't it?" Ichabod asked.

Sam looked at Edward, wanting his opinion, but Edward didn't seem to be paying attention to anything but his feet. Sam guessed that he was probably nervous being out in public for so long.

"I could try it on anyway."

Ichabod shrugged, "May as well. Do you even know what size you are?"

Sam shook his head, "I dunno. I've been wearing sweat pants for like two months now. When I proposed to Joon, I was wearing 34s, but those were tight then."

"Okay, so, let's try 36-38."

"Okay."

Over the next hour, Sam went about choosing six different outfits that he intended to try on. Each one was different, all of them unique in some way. Ichabod had just nodded and told him to give them a shot, then led Sam to the dressing rooms.

"We'll wait out here," Ichabod said, pulling Edward along with him. The younger man still seemed to be very nervous and wasn't doing much besides shuffling around wherever Ichabod and Sam went.

The two waited patiently for Sam to finish trying everything on, but when twenty minutes passed and he still hadn't come out to show them anything, Ichabod started to wonder if something was up.

"Sam?" He asked, knocking on the door to the room that Sam had gone into. "Are you alive in there?"

Sam gave a loud sigh.

"Yeah..." he replied softly, "I'm here."

"Well did you find anything you liked?"

Sam sighed again, and came out, dressed again in his sweats and jacket. "None of them look right. They're all either too tight or too loose or they make me look fat. I'll never find anything decent," He said, frowning.

"We'll find you something. Don't worry," Ichabod reassured him, smiling.

Sam didn't feel so confident, but he followed Ichabod back out any way.

Ichabod seemed to be thinking very hard about the choices of suits in front of them, and soon enough, he picked up a simple black jacket. "Why don't you try this, with a pair of black pants and a white shirt?"

"It's really simple..." Sam replied, looking the outfit over.

"Simple can be good sometimes."

"Fine, but if this doesn't work, I'm giving up. I'll marry Joon in sweatpants and flip flops."

Ichabod rolled his eyes, and pushed Sam towards the dressing area. "Just be quiet and try it on."

Sam emerged a few minutes later, wearing the outfit.

"It actually looks good," He said, looking himself over in one of the mirrors on the walls.

"It's missing something..." Ichabod said, looking around. He grabbed a black bow tie off of one of the shelves nearby and began to fasten it to Sam's shirt. "Put your hat on," He instructed once he was finished.

Sam put his hat on, and looked in the mirror once again. His face lit up.

"Wow! You did it! You found the perfect outfit!"

"See? I told you we'd find something," Ichabod answered, smiling again.

Sam turned to Edward. "What do you think?"

Edward looked up from his feet, and looked Sam over. "You look nice," He replied, quietly, "I think it's the best choice."

"Great. Wow, thanks Ichabod!" He said, pulling the shorter man into a hug.

Ichabod seemed a little taken back by the action, but patted Sam on the back kindly. "No problem. Why don't you go change into your regular clothes and we'll go pay for it."

"We still have time, there's no rush to... oh," Sam said, only now noticing that a few customers had gathered and were staring, mainly at Edward again. Edward just shifted around uncomfortably, caught between wanting to go off somewhere to hide and trying to be nice to Sam.

Once they saw Sam look up at them, a few people began to mumble amongst themselves, no doubt saying nasty things. People could be really horrible, sometimes, and adults could often be worse than children when it came to insults.

Sam walked back into the dressing room, changed as fast as possible, and the three made their way out, trying their best to ignore everyone else around them.

00

As soon as they got back to the shelter, Sam made a beeline to the bathroom. He always seemed to have to pee constantly lately; one of the wonderful symptoms of being nearly seven months pregnant.

Sam opened the door to the bathroom to see a sight that he hadn't expected. Buster was standing on the edge of the toilet, drinking out of the bowl.

The cat looked at Sam, and Sam stared back at the cat, deciding what to do. Finally he decided that his need to use the bathroom outweighed allowing Buster to enjoy a drink of toilet water.

"Outta the way, cat," He said, gently lifting the cat off the toilet seat and plopping him down on the rug. Buster looked up at him from the floor, clearly offended.

Not waiting for Buster to leave, Sam sighed when he noticed that the cat was still staring at him. It was going to be impossible for him to go, even if it was only an animal.

"I NEED TO PEE," He yelled at the cat, and the cat just continued staring, obviously implementing its own version of revenge for being pushed off the toilet seat.

"AGH. You. Need. To. Leave. Now.," Sam said, picking up the gray cat and bringing him towards the bathroom door. Sam opened the door to put the cat outside, not realizing that Mort was walking through the hallway.

"Uh, wow," Mort said, walking by. "What's going on?"

"Your stupid cat won't let me use the bathroom!" Sam said, shoving the cat in Mort's direction.

"He won't let you go, or you won't let him drink from the toilet?" Mort questioned, as Buster walked over to him and began to rub on his legs. "That's a good boy, you show that crazy Sam that you can do what you want," He said, petting the cat behind its ears.

"You _know_ that he does that?! You know what, I have to go. I'm not dealing with this now," Sam said, slamming the bathroom door behind him as he went back in.

"Some people," Mort said, shaking his head as he continued to pet his cat


	29. Chapter 29

******A/N: Phish Tacko beta'd this. Go check out her page, she's an awesome author!**

**Chapter 29**

While Mort was playing with Buster, Wonka was busy working in his factory, and taking care of Rae. She'd been good the first few days back, but recently was beginning to fuss over everything. She seemed to be crying constantly and often for no real reason that Wonka could figure out.

To make matters even more stressful, Wonka and Charlie had been working on a new formulation that'd been consuming most of the day. It was for rainbow taffy that changed colors when one bit into it, but they just couldn't get the formula right. It'd been day after day of failure.

Charlie was still concerned about his mentor. He hadn't seen Wonka eat in days and he seemed to be getting less and less sleep, judging by his snippy attitude and the bags under his eyes. Once again, Charlie tried to get Wonka to take a break.

"Mr. Wonka, there's no deadline on this project. Why don't you just take a day off? I can watch Rae for you. You can sleep, and eat some food, and just relax for a day."

Wonka shook his head. "It'll bother me until we figure this out. You know that."

"But you're not well," Charlie protested. "You look like you've lost a ton of weight and you've only just had the baby, and you're not sleeping and you've been getting very hard to work with lately. You need a rest."

"If you don't like working with me, than you can always leave," Wonka snapped.

Charlie sighed. "It's not that… look, never mind. If you want to work yourself into the ground, then far be it from me to stop you. I'm only trying to look out for your health, is all."

The expression on Wonka's face softened a little, and he no longer looked as annoyed as he had a few seconds prior.

"I'm sorry if I've been… mean lately. Maybe you're right, maybe I should take a day off."

"You should."

Wonka ran a gloved hand through his hair, "Guess I need a shower, too," He said, forcing a smile as he tried to lighten the tone a bit.

"Just, go relax. I'll take Rae. We'll meet up tomorrow morning, okay?" Charlie asked.

"Yeah, okay. You win, Charlie Bucket. Rae's in her nursery. I'm going to go back to my old bedroom for now."

Charlie nodded, and started walking towards the nursery, while Wonka went in the other direction to his bedroom.

Once inside, Wonka took one look at his bed, and realized how tired he really felt. It seemed like ages since he'd had a full night's sleep.

Just as he laid down, his stomach growled. Okay, maybe it had been a while since he'd last eaten anything…

Wonka debated with himself whether he wanted to get up and get food or just stay there and go to sleep. Eventually the latter idea won out. Wonka spent the next fifteen hours in bed, finally catching up on rest.

That evening, everyone at the shelter was sitting around eating dinner, listening as Sam went over his wedding plans.

"We're going to have it on the 21st, at my church. We were going to do it outdoors, but we decided maybe it'll be better inside, just because it's more comfortable there. And you're all invited, of course."

"Sounds cool," Gilbert said.

"Did you pick a best mate?" Jack asked.

"Actually, I thought about that a lot and it just didn't seem right to have to choose anyone over the others, so I'm not going to have one."

Everyone nodded.

"That seems fair," Edward whispered.

"Joon's getting her wedding dress this week. She's going to look so beautiful," Sam said, absolutely beaming as he thought of his bride to be.

"Katrina was very beautiful on her wedding day," Ichabod said, also getting lost in his thoughts.

"And here we go again," Jack said, rolling his eyes.

Jack's comment brought Ichabod back to reality, and he immediately shut up, lest he go on another rant about missing his once happy marriage. He sighed, and rested a hand on his stomach, trying to think of other things.

"Hey I just thought of something," Jack spoke up again. "If you bring Katrina to the wedding, is she going to destroy everything like she did at Wonka's party? 'Cause that kinda sucked."

Ichabod sighed, "I hope not. She just gets… moody… sometimes."

"Moody is a nice way to say it," Jack said. "'Bitchy' is more like it."

"Okay now," Dr. Schnabel interrupted, seeing how Ichabod was starting to get angry, "Let's move on to something else."

It was silent for a moment before Sam spoke up. "Mort's cat was drinking out of the toilet earlier."

"Ew," Ichabod replied. "That's disgusting."

"It's just water. It's clean," Mort answered, crossing his arms. "I don't know why you have such a problem with it any way."

"It's just weird to walk into the bathroom and see the cat there like that," Sam countered. "I'm not angry about it, I just don't think he should do it."

"Buster can do whatever he wants to do."

"Are you going to raise your kid that way too?" Gilbert asked.

"GUYS!" Dr. Schnabel cut in again. "Stop it. You're too old for this, all of you. Mort, train Buster to stay away from the toilet. Everyone else - shut the fuck up and eat."

Everyone just stared at the doctor. Rarely, if ever, did he speak so harshly. Everyone finished their meals, quietly, not daring to even look at each other.


	30. Chapter 30

******A/N: Phish Tacko beta'd this. Go check out her page, she's an awesome author!**

**Chapter 30**

The day of Sam's wedding was very hectic. Sam had gotten up early to start getting ready, and Ashley had driven him over to the church that morning. Everyone else would be by a little bit before the wedding started. Ashley said that she was even going to bring Sweeney over.

By some miracle of God, Gilbert had not had any nightmares the previous night, and Sam had gotten a full night's sleep, something that he was extremely grateful for. It seemed like no matter what he did, there was still more to do. He was determined to make the wedding perfect, if not for himself, than for Joon.

Wonka was the first guest to arrive, coming to the church a full hour before everyone else. He'd brought Rae with him, and had dressed her in a little white and yellow sundress with a yellow bow in her hair. Wonka himself was dressed in a purplish suit with a top hat.

To say that Sam was shocked by his friend's appearance would've been an understatement. Wonka was extremely thin, almost to a point where he looked like he would break if someone hugged him too hard. He was a small man naturally, but he just looked frail now. His hair looked different, too. It looked thinner and less shiny than it'd been previously. Sam almost wanted to ask if he had been sick, but he held back.

"Wow, Willy," He said, forcing a smile. "You look... different! You've lost a lot of weight."

Wonka half smiled. "Yeah, well, I've been really busy and all with the factory and with taking care of Rae."

"Does Charlie help you at all?"

"He does, if I ask him to. He's very good. Oh, by the way, congratulations! I know you're not married yet, but you're close enough. Here you go," he said, taking an envelope out of his jacket pocket and handing it to Sam.

"Willy, you didn't have to get us anything," Sam started, though he took the envelope anyway.

"I wanted to. It's nothing huge anyway. Go ahead, open it!"

Sam smiled, and opened the envelope, pulling out a purple piece of paper with gold lettering. "A life time of free chocolate," He read slowly. "Awesome!"

"Maybe when your child is a little bit older, you can take them to my factory and we can go on a tour, and they can meet Rae," Wonka suggested.

"That would be amazing! Wow, thank you so much!" Sam said, pulling Wonka into a hug. He tried to ignore it as he felt Wonka cringe at his touch. He'd forgotten that the chocolatier wasn't much of a touchy-feely person. "Well, um, there's still a lot to do... You're here a little early. I still have to get dressed. There's some food in the church's kitchen, I think. I'd be happy to get you something." Sam hoped that Wonka would say yes. He looked like he needed something to eat, being as skinny as he was.

Wonka smiled again, "Thanks, but I'm fine. We'll just hang out in the chapel, if that's okay."

"Sure. Whatever you want to do. The wedding officially starts at 2, but everyone else should be here by 1:30. I'm so excited!" Sam was bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet.

"I'm happy for you," Wonka replied sincerely. "It'll be a great day. I can't wait to see everyone else, too."

Sam nodded. "It'll be great. I, uh… I hate to do this, but I really need to start getting ready..."

"Go ahead. I'll talk to you after the ceremony," Wonka said.

With that, the two went their separate ways.

00

Everyone arrived on time, thanks to the efforts of Ashley and Dr. Schnabel. It seemed like everyone had gone out of their way to look good, too. For Ichabod and Jack, who, respectively, were eight and a half and nine months pregnant, it wasn't an easy task. None of their clothes really fit them, but they'd tried. Angelica and Katrina had also attended, and Sam found himself praying before the wedding that Katrina didn't ruin it in any way.

Surprisingly, Sam wasn't nervous at all. He knew that Joon was the woman that he wanted to spend forever with, so legally sealing the deal wasn't as big of a deal as previously thought. He was more excited than anything. He had absolutely no idea what her dress looked like, either, though he was sure that he'd find her to be beautiful no matter what she wore.

At exactly five minutes to 2, Sam walked down the aisle to where he would meet Joon. At 2 on the dot, the pianist began to play.

Everyone in the church stood to look back at Joon, who was being led down the aisle by her brother Benny.

She looked ravishing in her lacy white gown. Her sleeves were short and her arms were covered by long white satin gloves. Blue satin had been wrapped around her waist and tied in the back and she held a bouquet of pink roses. Delicate white lace had been layered over white chiffon, which had been layered over pale blue silk. The back of the gown flowed behind her in a train as she glided down the aisle and her delicate white shoes peeked out from below the hem. She looked like she'd stepped right off the Titanic (before it sank, of course) and into the church.

Once she was at the end of the aisle, across from Sam, she looked up at him, smiling. He smiled back at her as the minister began the ceremony. It was short, but poignant. The minister read the verses from 1 Corinthians that Sam had requested, and then proceeded to ask them the crucial questions.

"Do you, Juniper Pearl, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

Joon grinned, blushing under her veil. "I do."

"And do you, Samuel-"

The minister was interrupted by a loud 'thud' from somewhere in the audience. He, Joon, and Sam turned to see what'd happened. It didn't take long to find out. There, in the second row, was Wonka, lying unconscious on the floor.

"I think he fainted!" Sam heard someone– Gilbert, perhaps?– say.

Dr. Schnabel immediately began making his way over to the fallen man to assess the situation. Everyone stared as Dr. Schnabel began taking Wonka's pulse, and trying to wake him up.

"I think he fainted because he's malnourished," The doctor reported.

There was a mumbling among the crowd, when suddenly Jack's voice sounded out.

"I hate to make this situation worse," Jack squeaked, wide-eyed. "But I think my water just broke."

Sam turned to the minister. "Guess we should hurry this up, then?"

The minister nodded. "Do you, Samuel Dawson, take Juniper Pearl to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

"I do."

"Then by the power invested in me by the state, I pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride. And, uh, maybe someone should call an ambulance?

The reception was supposed to be held in the basement of the church. It was a simple room but it fit everyone and was cheap so it worked.

As soon as Sam and Joon were officially married, Dr. Schnabel and Ashley started getting ready for what would surely be a long day of medical procedures.

First, they carried Wonka to the reception room, with Charlie watching Rae for the time being. Ashley and Dr. Schnabel laid the chocolatier out on the floor so they could get a better look at him. He was breathing very softly and barely moving at all, even when touched.

"I'll take over with this, why don't you go help Jack down here?" Dr. Schnabel suggested.

Ashley ran back into the chapel where she found Angelica trying her best to lead Jack out towards the reception area. He seemed to be having a difficult time walking.

"Here, let me help you," Ashley said, getting on Jack's other side. Just then, a contraction rattled Jack's body, making him cringe.

"Good Lord, make it stop!" He hissed, bending over in agony. Ashley and Angelica forced him back upright, and led him to the other room as quickly as they could. Once they were there, Ashley found the most comfortable looking chair she could and helped him sit down.

"Did you feel any contractions prior to this?" She asked.

Jack shook his head. "My stomach hurt a little this morning, but nothing like this… FUCK…!"

"Shouldn't we get him back to the shelter?" Angelica asked, taking hold of Jack's hand.

Ashley shook her head. "I don't think there's enough time. There's no way he could've spent the day not having contractions and end up this far along in the labor process now. Maybe he didn't know what they were. It doesn't matter, we have to deal with things how they are… I need to get the doctor." Ashley walked away to the other side of the room, where Dr. Schnabel had just gotten Wonka to wake up. Wonka was sitting with his legs dangling over the side of a table and listening to Dr. Schnabel talk. She could hear the doctor giving him some schpiel about low blood sugar and that he needed to eat more. Gilbert had come by, holding a plate with a piece of cake on it. He offered it to Wonka.

"Sam says you need this more than he needs a photo op with Joon," Gilbert said, handing the plate to Wonka, who took it weakly.

Wonka shook his head softly. "He didn't need to give me a piece of his wedding cake."

Gilbert sighed. "Just eat it."

The doctor nodded his head in agreement. "You need to get your sugar up. Eat that and then go eat something else and actually have a decent meal, and keep doing that, otherwise you're going to keep fainting and getting weaker until your hair starts falling out, your organs shut down one by one, and you die from starvation."

Wonka's eyes got wide. "…What?!"

"Sorry to sound so harsh, but I really have other things I need to take care of and that's just a basic synopsis of what you can expect to happen if you don't start taking care of yourself. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go help Jack deliver a baby. Gilbert, make sure that Willy eats some more after that!" The doctor said, walking back towards Jack. Ashley followed along with him.

When they got back to Jack, they found the pirate sweating, panting, and crushing Angelica's hand with his own. Sam and Joon had come over, and were trying to comfort Jack as best they could.

"This… fucking… hurts," He said through gritted teeth.

"I don't think we should do this here," The doctor said, "Is there anywhere else we can go? Somewhere a bit more private?"

"There's a smaller room through that door," Sam said, pointing to a door to his left.

"Great. Let's go."

Ashley, Angelica, and Dr. Schnabel all did their part in getting Jack into the other room, while Sam and Joon held the doors for them.

"We're going to see how dilated you are, and go from there."

"Just get her out of me!" Jack yelled.

"Sam, Joon, I think we're okay here," Ashley said, nicely trying to tell them to leave. "We need to examine Jack, so…"

"Enough said," Sam replied. He took Joon by the hand and started leading her out. "Let us know if you need anything."

"Thanks," Ashley mumbled, turning her attention back to Jack.

"Okay, love, we need to see what's going on. You need to take your pants off. Can you do that? Maybe Angelica could help you?"

"_No problemo_," Angelica said, stepping up. "Just give us a second."

Despite knowing that they'd both probably be seeing Jack mostly naked within the next few minutes, Ashley and Schnabel turned around to give Jack at least a sense of privacy and respect while he got partially undressed.

They turned back around to see Jack with his pants off, but with Angelica's shawl draped over his lap.

"That works," Ashley said, looking at Dr. Schnabel to take the next step.

"I'm going to lift up your legs and just see what's going on, okay?" Dr. Schnabel said, keeping his professional demeanor.

"Just… do it," Jack hissed, once again squeezing Angelica's hand.

A second later the doctor was done. "Well, this is going to be a memorable wedding, that's for sure. Jack, you're at 8cm… so, any time within the next hour or so."

"So he's going to have our daughter here?" Angelica protested. "Can't you take him back?"

"We can try to, but he's probably just going to deliver in the car, and that's way smaller than this room. Jack, you should've warned us that you were having contractions," The doctor said.

"I didn't know I was!" Jack answered.

"He really didn't," Ashley said. "I think he just thought his stomach hurt." She turned to Angelica. "Why don't you go see if you can get some towels, or a sheet, or a blanket, or SOMETHING, and a pair of scissors."

"Scissors?"

"We'll need to cut the umbilical cord. Unfortunately, it looks like you're going to go through this without an epidural, Jack," she said, looking back at the pirate.

"If there was one time in my entire life where I've wanted a bottle of rum, it would be now. Fuck…"

"I'll go," Angelica said, pulling her hand from Jack's grip. "It'll be over before you know it, mi amore." She leaned in to kiss Jack on the head before leaving.

Angelica walked outside to find everyone gathered around, discussing the events currently going on. Sam and Joon were sitting happily together, eating their wedding cake, while Gilbert and Ichabod were taking turns shoveling food in Wonka's mouth. Edward was, as per usual, sitting quietly, staring at his scissors, occasionally laughing when Sam or Joon or someone else would say something amusing. Sweeney and Mort were next to each other, along with Anthony, talking amongst themselves. Katrina even seemed to be behaving– she was talking to Johanna as if they were best friends.

"Sam, do you know if this church has any towels, or blankets, or anything like that?"

"There's probably stuff in one of the closets from when the kids do lock-ins. I'll go look," He offered, standing up.

"Gracias," Angelica said, following Sam into another room and flexing her hand. Indeed, there were a few folded blankets in the closet, four of five, which was hopefully enough.

Angelica brought the blankets back into the room where Jack was. He was sweating even more profusely now and it looked like he had tears in his eyes.

"Are you okay?" Angelica asked, handing the blankets to Ashley. She knelt down next to her lover. "Oh, Jack, I know it hurts. I'm so sorry. It'll be over soon, though…"

"Not soon enough," Jack gasped.

Angelica noticed that he was frantically grabbing at the seats of the couch he was sitting on, probably trying to find something to hold onto. She quickly gave him her hand once again.

Suddenly, Jack jolted into a more upright position. "What the fuck was that?!" He cried out.

Dr. Schnabel looked under the shawl that was on his lap. "You're at 10cm. The baby's going to come any time now. "

"At least it's going fast, love," Angelica said, looking down sadly at Jack. She hated seeing him in pain.

It was another hour of screaming and contractions before the baby started to come.

"You need to push, Jack," Dr. Schnabel said, giving Jack his own hand to hold as well, "On the count of three.. one.. two.. three!"

Jack screamed, loud enough that everyone in the reception room would've heard him. They must have, because Angelica could hear them quiet down, probably listening for what was going on.

"I see her head," Dr. Schnabel said. "Ashley, go get one of those blankets for me. Jack, I need you to push again. Ready? One… two…"

There was another ear-shattering scream. Angelica looked at her lover, shocked that he could even make that type of sound.

"You can do this, Jack." She patted his hand. "You can do it. It'll all be over soon. Just use The Force."

Just as Ashley came back with a blanket, the doctor spoke again. "Okay, she's halfway out. Need to do it again. One… two… three!"

Jack screamed again, then looked up at Angelica. "YOU DID THIS TO ME! THIS IS YOUR DOING!"

"My fault? It takes two to tango, baby," She said, smirking. "Come on, Jack. Use the Force!"

Dr. Schnabel rolled his eyes before once again looking Jack over. "Almost there, Jack. One more push. Ready?"

There was another scream, followed by the sound of a baby crying. Once again, everyone must've heard it, because they all started clapping.

"Look at that," Dr. Schnabel said, lifting the baby up. "A beautiful little girl. Ashley, clean the baby off, will you? I need to help Jack a bit.

Ashley nodded, and set to wiping the blood off the baby, while Schnabel calmed Jack down as best he could. As soon as the baby was clean, she took the pair of scissors and offered them to Angelica to let her snip the umbilical cord. The Latina woman seemed a little bit grossed-out by the sight of it, but did it anyway.

"Your baby is perfect," Ashley said, wrapping the baby up and handing her to Angelica.

"Wow. She has my features."

"Oi, let me see," Jack said weakly. He looked like he was about to pass out. Angelica showed him the baby girl, smiling as she did so.

"You can hold her when you're feeling a little better."

"Yeah… that would be good…" Jack said. He was starting to feel a combination of dizziness and sleepiness.

"Let's wait a little bit, let Jack rest... the bleeding will stop on its own, then we can see about getting a wheelchair and taking him back to the shelter," The doctor said.

"Can I sleep now?" came Jack's voice.

"Yes, Jack, you can sleep," Angelica said. "We'll wake you up when it's time to go.


	31. Chapter 31

******A/N: Phish Tacko beta'd this. Go check out her page, she's an awesome author!**

**Chapter 31**

Everyone ended up getting back to the shelter by the time the sun had set. Jack, Angelica, and their baby, whom they'd named Angela Elizabeth, were the first to get back. Ashley had immediately helped Jack to one of hospital beds in an exam room, and had hooked him up to a variety of machines before leaving to get everyone else. Thankfully, Jack seemed to be doing okay, considering what he'd just been through a few hours earlier.

Since they hadn't had much of a reception, all of the guests came back to the shelter was well, to continue talking. Wonka seemed to be doing better, thanks to Gilbert and Ichabod's efforts of stuffing him full of food. At least, he didn't look like he'd be fainting again anytime soon.

Sam and Joon were happy just to have everyone gathered together. Even if their wedding hadn't gone as intended, it would be something that they'd remember forever. They were the first to visit Jack and Angelica when they got back.

They walked into the room to see Jack sitting up in the hospital bed, looking rather bored, while Angelica rocked their daughter in her arms.

"_Hola_, Sam, Joon," Angelica said. "Sorry we, uh… hijacked the attention from you during your wedding."

"No, no, it's not like Jack could control it… when it's time, it's time. We just wanted to come see the baby and congratulate you," Sam replied.

Angelica handed the baby to Sam, and he showed her to Joon.

"Aww, she's adorable," Joon said, gently pinching the baby's cheek. "Have you named her?"

"Angela Elizabeth Sparrow," Jack answered.

"That's a nice name."

Soon the baby started squirming as she woke up from her nap. Sam handed her back to Angelica to take care of her.

"We owe you a congratulations too. How's married life so far?" Angelica asked.

"Well, the past six hours have been pretty decent," Sam answered, smiling. "So… are you guys going to stay here? Or what's your game plan?"

"We were going to head back to the ship in a few days. Take Angela around, show her the world. We are both much happier on the sea than on land," Angelica explained.

"Wow… Well, we'll definitely miss Jack," Sam said.

"I'll be back. And you can always email or call, ya know."

"You have a computer on your pirate ship?"

"Well it _is_ the twenty first century. We have a computer and GPS and all that."

"I have to say, I didn't expect that," Sam said honestly. "I'll have to take down your email address before you go. Maybe you can send us pictures of the different places you stop at!"

Jack shrugged. "Sure. "

"Oh, maybe you can start a vlog!" Sam suggested.

"What's a vlog?" Jack asked.

"A video blog. You can take videos of the different places you go and all of that and put it on youtube."

"Hmm, yes, maybe. We'll have to see," Jack said, just before he yawned. "Sorry. Giving birth to a 9 pound child without an epidural takes a lot out of ya."

"We'll leave you to relax, then," Joon said. "Congrats again."

00

Knowing that Jack would be leaving sooner, rather than later, Sam came up with the idea that there should be a going-away party for him. No one wanted any drama, so they decided to limit it to shelter residents only, with the exception of Angelica, since she was with Jack.

Everyone knew that they were going to miss the pirate. Edward seemed especially sad by the news that he was leaving. Jack had been his roommate, after all. He hadn't directly said anything, he just seemed more mopey than usual lately.

The residents held the party on the night before Jack was to leave. It wasn't anything big, just some pizza and cake (courtesy of Dr. Schnabel's wallet). The group sat around, watching as Jack played with Angela and Mort played with Anakin. No one really wanted to say goodbye, either. Jack had promised that he'd come back and visit and had even given everyone his email address, saying that he'd send pictures. Still, it was hard. Jack had _lived_there, and now he was going away.

Gilbert noticed that Edward seemed even more sad after the party ended, if that were possible at all. The only way that he could think to describe it was that Edward looked almost like a kicked puppy. Just sitting there, quietly, listening to everyone but crying inside.

The redhead caught up with him once everyone else had cleared.

"Are you okay?" He asked, gently placing a hand on Edward's shoulder. The younger man still hadn't gotten up from the table, even though everyone else was gone. He'd been just sitting there, staring at something... or nothing... for close to half an hour.

Edward just quietly shook his head 'no'.

"Are you sad that Jack is leaving?"

Edward shrugged.

"Because it would make sense if you were sad. You two were roommates, and now you'll have to sleep by yourself."

"I don't want him to leave," Edward finally mumbled, still not making any eye contact.

Gilbert nodded. "He'll come back and visit."

"No, he won't. Everyone says that, that they'll come back, and they never do," Edward replied.

"Willy came back for Sam's wedding."

"He didn't call or write before that. He won't contact us now, either."

"Well... you can call him, and you'll be able to… Well, one of us can help you write an email to Jack!"

"Yeah." Edward just continued staring down at the table. It was weird, how emotional yet cold he could be at the same time.

Gilbert really didn't know what else to say. Obviously, Edward had his mind set on the idea that no one would come back, ever again, and there wasn't much he could really do to change that. The younger man was right to an extent; people probably would not visit on their own. The only way to get everyone together in one place would be to have a reunion of sorts... That's when the light bulb went off in Gilbert's head. They could have a reunion. Maybe at the shelter, maybe elsewhere. Sometime in the next few months would be best, since it would be after most of the residents had given birth and there was less danger of anyone pulling a Jack during the party. He'd definitely have to mention the idea to Dr. Schnabel.

Gilbert looked back at Edward, who was now resting his head on his forearms on the table. He couldn't tell if Edward was asleep or not at first, but when he looked closer he could see that the boy's eyes were closed and that he was breathing softly. Gently, he shook Edward's shoulder, woke him up and helped him back to his bedroom.

00

Edward was very tired and he slept until eleven the next morning. No one wanted to wake him, thinking it was probably better if he slept through Jack leaving. Jack had been staying in the exam room on the hospital bed for the past few days, so it's not like Edward would've expected him to be there in the room when he woke up, anyway.

After laying in bed for a half hour, Edward got up and decided to try to find some lunch. He walked into the hallway to see everyone gathered around the door of one of the exam rooms.

"Is Jack leaving?" He asked, as he walked up to the crowd.

"He left five hours ago. Ichabod's in labor. I'm surprised the screaming and crying didn't wake you up," Gilbert said.

Edward glanced into the room and indeed saw Ichabod laying on a hospital bed, crying hysterically. Dr. Schnabel and Ashley were there... and so was Mort, holding his hand.

"He's staying with Ichabod until Katrina comes," Sam explained. "She'll be here soon."

"Oh. Maybe we shouldn't be here?" Edward suggested. He wouldn't have wanted a crowd of people watching him while he gave birth.

Everyone kinda shrugged and the crowd began to dissipate.

Throughout the morning, screams rang out through the entire shelter. For a small man, Ichabod apparently had an extraordinarily strong set of lungs. Katrina had arrived a little bit earlier, and was sitting with her husband, holding his hand and smoothing his hair back from his face, trying to comfort him.

Upon feeling another contraction, he screamed, and then, his eyes rolled back and he fainted.

Katrina, the doctor, and Ashley all sighed at once.

"Well, I was expecting that," Ashley finally said. "He'll wake up when it's closer to delivery time.

And, for an hour, there was silence.

Ichabod finally woke up when he was about 4cm dilated. It was a particularly hard contraction that'd awakened him.

He looked over to see Katrina still sitting there, still holding his hand.

"Make it stop," He begged, tears flooding his eyes. "Please! It hurts!"

Katrina frowned. "I'm so sorry love, I know it hurts. Doctor, can't you give him something for this?"

"We can give him an epidural," The doctor answered. "Ashley, can you help me set that up?"

The nurse nodded, and started getting some syringes ready. Ichabod took one look at the needles and went pale.

"You're going to stick that into me?!"

"No. It's for another patient. Don't worry about it. Now, I need you to close your eyes, and we'll make you feel better, okay?" Ashley said, sweetly.

Ichabod nodded, and closed his eyes.

"Now Katrina and I are going to help you get on your side, and I'm going to administer some medicine to make it hurt less. It's an rub-on cream. It won't hurt." Ashley looked at Katrina, her eyes telling the blonde to keep her mouth shut.

Between the two of them, Katrina and Ashley were able to get Ichabod into the correct position to administer the epidural.

"Keep your eyes closed," Ashley said, as she flicked the syringe to get any air bubbles out.

"Okay..." came Ichabod's weak reply.

Ashley took a deep breath, and as quickly as possible, jabbed Ichabod with the needle, catching him off guard.

"What the hell?!" He yelled. "You lied!"

"It's done. You didn't faint. Everybody wins," Ashley replied, helping Ichabod turn back over. "You'll start feeling some relief very soon."

A minute passed, then another minute, then another. Ichabod was still writhing in agony.

"That's odd," Ashley said, coming closer to Dr. Schnabel. "The epidural should've worked. Why's he still twitching like that?"

Dr. Schnabel shook his head. "I have no idea. It worked for Willy, and it's worked for all of my patients in the past, and you injected it correctly..." He trailed off, thinking. "Actually, I have an idea."

"Ichabod," The doctor said, walking up to the side of Ichabod's bed. "I need to see where Ashley injected you to make sure she hit the right spot."

Ichabod shook his head frantically. "No. You're not going to give me more needles! I know your tricks!"

Schnabel held up his hands, showing that they were empty. "No needles. There's none here. I'm not joking."

Ichabod's expression softened a little. "Just make it stop. It hurts so bad..."

Dr. Schnabel nodded, and once again turned Ichabod on his side. He ran his finger over the area that Ashley had injected Ichabod, and the constable did not react. Then he poked him. Still no reaction. Finally, he pinched Ichabod's skin, thinking for sure that'd make him cry out, but there was nothing.

"Okay," The doctor said. "You can lay on your back again. Everything's fine. I need to speak to Ashley for a moment."

Dr. Schnabel pulled the nurse into the corner of the room. "It's psychosomatic. He didn't react when I touched him where you injected him. If he was really feeling pain, he would've felt me pinching his skin and he would've reacted."

"So... should we do a placebo, than?" Ashley asked, trying to ignore the screaming and crying that was once again coming from Ichabod.

"I'm going to give him some Diazepam. It'll calm him down and his mind will sort itself out. Right now, he's too frightened and upset to think clearly."

"Good idea."

Dr. Schnabel came back towards Ichabod's bed, this time, with a needle in hand. "I'm not going to lie, I need to inject you with this to make your pain stop. Can you handle that?"

Ichabod took a deep breath, and nodded 'yes'. "Anything… Just make it stop."

"This will help," Schnabel reassured him, injecting the medication into the IV.

Within minutes, the constable was noticeably calmer.

"There we go," Dr. Schnabel said. "Now you're feeling better, right?"

Ichabod nodded weakly. "Thanks..."

"Good. Now you just stay calm and relax, and I'm sure your son or daughter will be out in no time."

00

The next two hours were calm. No screaming, no crying. The Diazepam seemed to be working. By this time, Ichabod was at 8cm. The baby would definitely be coming soon.

The medication finally started to wear off when he was fully dilated. Once again, the screams and crying returned.

"The baby is starting to come. You need to start pushing," Ashley said.

Ichabod gave a weak attempt at this, tears welling up in his eyes once again from the pain of it.

"Come on, you have to push harder than that."

"I CAN'T!" Ichabod yelled.

"Come on, Jack did this without any anesthetic, on a couch in a church basement. You can surely do this with an epidural on a hospital bed," Katrina reminded him.

Ichabod looked at her with a look that could only be described of as one of pure rage. "I'm not Jack, Katrina! I'm doing what I can!"

Katrina rolled her eyes. "Okay. Well, you need to push again."

Ichabod pushed, grunting loudly as he did so.

"It'll be over soon, you're doing fine," Dr. Schnabel reassured the constable. "I can see the baby's head. Take a breath, and then on the count of three, you can push again. One... two... three."

There was an agonizing scream as Ichabod pushed as hard as he could.

"Good job," Dr. Schnabel said. "We're going to wait a few seconds then push again. A few more times and it'll be over."

Ichabod grasped Katrina's hand as hard as he could. Eleven minutes and a lot more screaming later, later, their son was born.


	32. Chapter 32

******A/N: Phish Tacko beta'd this. Go check out her page, she's an awesome author!**

**Chapter 32**

As Ashley and Schnabel cleaned the baby and Ichabod up, there were problems going on in another land far from the shelter.

Carlie and Tarrant Hightopp were having their usual daily cup of tea. Everything had seemed fine, up until a few minutes ago, when Tarrant had gone even paler than usual and started sweating. A second ago, he'd dropped his tea cup and ran out of the room. Carlie could hear him getting sick in the bathroom yet again. This was the fifth time in five days that it'd happened.

Carlie sighed, and got up to go check on her little brother. She was very concerned. It was unlike Tarrant to be so ill.

She pushed the door to the bathroom open to find him bent over and throwing up. As she'd done each day so far, she pulled his wild orange hair back from his face. He threw up a few more times, Carlie right there holding his hair in place and occasionally rubbing his back, until he seemed to be done. Tarrant sat back, leaning up against the bathtub, sweat pouring down his face. His eyes were a dark shade of brown, and he had a sad expression on his face.

"I think you need to go to a doctor, little brother," Carlie said, as she got a glass of water for him.

"I'm fine," Tarrant replied, forcing a laugh, though it came out hoarsely since he'd just been sick. "It's just a little bug is all."

"You've been acting strange for a couple of months now, though. Since... since that encounter with Stayne..." She trailed off, handing the glass of water to her younger brother, who took it gratefully.

"It's nothing. Really."

"I mean, besides the sickness, there's the mood swings and the weird food cravings – Don't think I don't know about that! And you look like you've gained a bit of weight... perhaps you should take a test."

Tarrant forced a smile, "No need for a test. I'm fine. I'm just experimenting with different food choices lately and my metabolism is slowing down."

"And the mood swings and vomiting?"

Tarrant shrugged. "I'm tired and have a stomach virus. I don't know what else to tell you, my dear sister. I'm fine."

Carlie shook her head. "You're in denial, is what you are."

Tarrant rolled his eyes. "I have some work to do, Carlie. Perhaps we can meet again tomorrow?"

Carlie stared at her brother for a moment, sure that he was trying to kick her out so that the subject would be dropped.

"Fine," She finally agreed. "But if this continues than next week you need to take a test."

"Right. Test. Whatever."

Carlie shook her head again. "I don't know what happened between you and Stayne, but I have an idea, and if I'm right, you need medical attention."

Tarrant just stared at her, mentally willing her to leave.

"I'm going now," She added. "Take care of yourself. I'll see you tomorrow."

00

As she was walking down the path away from Tarrant's house, Carlie ran into Alice, who was walking in the opposite direction.

"Good afternoon, Alice," Carlie greeted the blonde. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, Carlie, and you?"

"I'm well. Are you heading to go see Tarrant?"

Alice nodded. "Yes, I've been quite worried about him. He's been sick a lot lately."

Carlie frowned. "I've noticed too. I was just with him, and he was ill again. I think..." She looked around, making sure no one was nearby before speaking again. "I think he may be... with child." She whispered the last part.

"I've thought the same thing. If it's true, he can't stay here. The Red Queen will have his head if she finds out."

Carlie sighed. "Well he's in denial about it. Says he has a stomach bug. I'm not sure what to do..."

"If we can get him to take a test, and it comes out positive, I think I know a place where he can go."

"I'm listening," Carlie said.

"It's in Overland. I read about it in a newspaper article. It's a shelter for pregnant men. They offer free medical care and he'd be away from here. He'd be safe."

Carlie frowned. "I'd hate for my brother to be so far away, but if it was necessary... The first step is getting him to admit it, though, and find out for sure if he is."

"I'll see what I can do," Alice said. "Maybe talk some sense into him."

"Good luck. He won't even listen to me, and I'm his sister." Carlie said. She glanced around again. "I must be going now. Let me know if you've made any progress with him."

"I will. Have a good day, Carlie," Alice replied, "I'll contact you soon.

00

Back at St. Joseph's, Dr. Schnabel was once again tending to Ichabod. He'd been very weak since he'd given birth, more so than the other residents had been. Truth be told, it worried the doctor a little, but he felt that most likely, it was a psychosomatic issue once again.

"How are you feeling?" The doctor asked, watching as Ichabod held his son, staring down at the little boy. He had dark hair and pale skin, much like Ichabod did.

"Tired. Nauseated. My body hurts."

"I see. Well, some of that is to be expected. You did just give birth a few hours ago. I'm sure you'll feel better soon. In the meantime, I can give you some pain medication to help."

"The spot where I was injected... That hurts too," Ichabod said.

"Let me see it, then. I'll need you to turn over. Let me put Jackson in his crib. That is the name you two decided on, right?"

"Yes." Ichabod handed the baby to Dr. Schnabel, who lay him down before returning his attention to his patient.

"Okay. Turn on your side."

Ichabod groaned as he moved, the effort taking all of his energy.

The doctor pulled up Ichabod's hospital gown, and checked the injection site.

"It looks fine."

"It hurts, though, so something must be wrong."

"It is probably just sore, is all. As I said, I'll give you some pain meds and some Valium."

Ichabod sighed. "Fine."

00

From his window, Tarrant could see Alice approaching. He knew why she was coming; it was the same reason that Carlie had been coming by so often lately. Yet another person concerned about his health.

He frowned, knowing that Alice would probably be harder to get rid of than Carlie was. Carlie at least respected his boundaries; if he didn't want to talk, she didn't really force him. Alice would poke and pry at him until she got whatever answers she was looking for.

Tarrant briefly contemplated turning off the lights, and pretending that he wasn't home. Maybe Alice would leave. But she happened to catch sight of him in the window a second later, so it was too late for that. She appeared at the front door a moment later. Tarrant forced himself to smile as he went to answer it. Perhaps if he acted happy, like nothing was wrong, she wouldn't question him. He just hoped that he wouldn't get sick again while she was there.

"Good afternoon, Hatter," Alice said, as he let her inside.

"Good afternoon to you, Alice. What brings you here on this fine day?"

Alice shrugged. "I just wanted to see you. Spend some time with you, see how you're doing and all."

"I'm well," Tarrant replied, still smiling.

Alice smiled back. "Good. May we go sit down, then?"

"Oh, yes, of course," Tarrant said. He led her to his living room. It was a small, cozy place with two overstuffed couches that were patched with various fabrics.

Alice took a seat on the loveseat, across from Tarrant.

"So, you're doing well?" She asked again. She couldn't help but notice how her friend was sitting. He was laying back, hand resting on his stomach. He probably wasn't conscious of his position, she realized, since he seemed rather comfortable sitting that way.

"I'm fine. Better than ever," Tarrant lied.

"The last few times we've met you've been sick, and you have been acting differently lately," Alice said, frowning. "I wish you'd just be honest with me. By the way, is something wrong with your stomach?"

Tarrant looked down and noticed where his hand was and quickly moved it. "I have a bit of a stomach bug."

Alice shook her head. "I'm worried about you."

"There's really nothing to be worried about. Both you and Carlie are wasting your time, worrying over nothing. I'm fine! Really."

"It just doesn't make sense. A stomach virus wouldn't cause mood swings, and you certainly wouldn't gain weight from it," She said, looking him over. "No offense."

Tarrant sighed. "I know what you're getting at, and it's simply not possible."

"Then why not take a test, and rule it out?"

"There's no reason to. It's not possible, so why waste my time?"

"Carlie and I would stop worrying over you if it came out negative."

Tarrant's eyes suddenly changed from dark brown to a light, almost yellow green color. They seemed to only get that way if he was angry or nervous.

"I do not need to take a test!" He exclaimed, furrowing his eyebrows, "Why can't you just leave me alone?!"

"We just care about you, is all," Alice said softly.

"Well then why are you sitting here, pointing out my flaws?" Tarrant asked. 'Yeah, that's a good one to play on,' he thought to himself. 'make her feel guilty'. "People age, and sometimes they act different, and sometimes they get sick! It happens!"

Alice lowered her gaze. "I didn't mean to hurt you, Hatter. I truly didn't. I'm just concerned."

Seeing the sadness on Alice's face, Tarrant's mood began to change again, and his eyes changed to a lighter brown color.

"I'm sorry. I should not have yelled at you," He said sincerely. "I'm perfectly fine, though."

"I suppose there's nothing I can do to make you change your mind, and see a doctor," Alice replied. "Well... I tried."

Tarrant nodded, and the two sat in silence for a moment before Alice spoke up again. "I should be going. If you change your mind, I'll be happy to accompany you to the doctor."

"Thank you, but I won't be changing my mind any time soon," Tarrant answered, standing up to let Alice out.

"Alright," Alice said as she walked out the door. "I hope you're right, and that you're truly okay, Hatter. I really do."


	33. Chapter 33

******A/N: Phish Tacko beta'd this. Go check out her page, she's an awesome author!**

**Chapter 33**

Three days after Jackson was born, Ichabod was still in bed. He still didn't feel well enough to get up, yet. Katrina had been there, taking care of Jackson, and Ashley had been helping out too. It seemed like every day, he had a new complaint. Sometimes, his back hurt. Other times it was his stomach, or his head, or a combination of all three. He seemed to be very weak, enough so that Dr. Schnabel had kept him on an IV constantly, in order to keep him hydrated and give him the nutrients and vitamins he needed.

Ichabod had only held his son a few short times, and Dr. Schnabel was beginning to wonder if his constant physical problems had something to do with his nervousness about taking on fatherhood. Ichabod hadn't discussed his feelings all that much on it when he'd been pregnant, but it would make sense that he'd be somewhat scared about it now that it was a reality.

By day five, Dr. Schnabel was almost sure of his theory. Ichabod seemed to want to be near his son less and less. Every time Katrina brought him by, Ichabod would make excuses not to touch him or hold him. Finally, after a particularly hard afternoon of Ichabod complaining about some made up problem, the doctor had had enough. He knew he had to do something to help the constable, or he'd end up at the shelter forever and would never know his son.

Near the end of the day, he approached the one person who could probably relate to how Ichabod was feeling: Mort.

The writer was watching Star Wars: The Phantom Menace with Anakin when Dr. Schnabel had came to his room.

"Hey, Mort?" He asked, poking his head inside.

"SHHHH! This is the best part!" Mort hissed, making his TV louder.

"Okay..." The doctor replied.

A minute later, Mort finally let him in, pausing the movie so that they could talk.

"Exposing him to the story of his namesake while he's young, I see," The doctor joked.

"Yep. 'Cause Star Wars is AWESOME. Now, what's going on?"

"I need you to talk to Ichabod. He's having some difficulties adjusting to parenthood. I think he's afraid of it, and it's manifesting in physical symptoms. I'm sure you can relate to how he's feeling to an extent. Maybe you could offer him some advice?"

"I can try. I'm not exactly a model parent though, either."

"You try, though, and you're facing these challenges head on."

"I guess that's true. Yeah, okay, I'll talk to him."

"Thank you! He's downstairs resting."

"I'll go down now, then."

"Great, thanks."

"Sure," Mort said, switching off the TV. Anakin gave him a look as if to say 'What the hell, Dad?! I was watching that!'

"Calm down, kid," Mort said, almost as if he could read Anakin's mind. "We'll watch it later. We have more pressing things to take care of now.

00

Mort went downstairs, and found Ichabod lying in bed, curled on his side and staring at the wall. Katrina and Jackson were nowhere to be seen.

"Hey," Mort said, walking into the room.

Ichabod shifted a little to look at him. "Hi."

"Figured I'd see how you're doing. How are you?"

"Weak. Tired. Everything hurts..." Ichabod started again.

"Where's Jackson?"

"Katrina took him home for the evening," Ichabod said, softly. He moved to turn onto his back, sighing as he did so.

"So, you ready to go home, soon?" Mort asked.

"I don't know if I'll ever get out of here," Ichabod answered, frowning.

"Aw, come on. It can't be that bad."

"It hurts _all_ the time," Ichabod groaned. "It's always something new! And Dr. Schnabel can't seem to find the cause of the problem most of the time!"

"Hmmm," Mort said. "Are you sure it's not a mental thing? Maybe you're nervous about something?"

"What would I be nervous about? The worst is over," Ichabod said, seeming a little offended.

"Maybe you're nervous about being a dad?"

Ichabod opened his mouth to reply, ready to spit out a nasty comment, when he actually began to consider Mort's suggestion.

"Well... maybe I'm a little nervous," He finally replied, eyes fixed on his hands. "It's a big thing, you know."

"I know. I understand. Really. But you'll get used to it."

"What if... what if I'm not good at it, though?" Ichabod asked softly.

"You'll be fine. Really. Man, if _I_ can raise a kid, then you definitely can! Besides, you have Katrina, too, and she will help you through it. You'll learn together."

Ichabod smiled slightly. "I guess you're right. About Katrina, I mean. Not that you're a bad parent- Ugh, I messed that up. You get what I mean."

"I do. You just have to relax, Ichabod. You're a smart guy with a good heart. You'll be a great father."

"I hope you're right. I'm still scared, though."

"It's okay to be scared. You just have to try not to let it get to you as much as it is. You're making yourself sick for no reason. And besides, you have everyone here to fall back on besides Katrina, too. There's nothing to worry about."

"That's true. You're right."

"I know I am! I'm Mort Rainey! I'm always right! Like Obi-Wan Kenobi."

Ichabod smiled for real this time. "I wouldn't go that far... but, okay. Thanks."

"No problem. Are you feeling better now?"

"Surprisingly, yes, I am."


	34. Chapter 34

******A/N: Phish Tacko beta'd this. Go check out her page, she's an awesome author!**

**Chapter 34**

Meanwhile in Underland, Hatter had been going about his daily routine: wake up, eat, make hats, eat, make more hats, tea, go to bed.

He was doing well keeping up with it, but the thought that perhaps Alice and Carlie had been right– Maybe he did need to take a test– was constantly in the back of his mind. He was also still getting sick regularly, but was trying to ignore it.

On Thursday afternoon, just as he was finishing his sixth hat of the day, there was a knock at the door to his workroom. Tarrant opened it to reveal Carlie.

"Hello, sister. What brings you here? It's not tea time..."

Carlie rolled her eyes. "Well hello to you too. I'm here because the Queen has requested your presence this evening."

"Oh..." Tarrant frowned a little. "Did Mirana say what she wanted?"

"No, she did not. She just said that she wishes to meet you, in the throne room, after you've finished your work for the day."

"That's fine. Thank you for the message," Tarrant replied.

"No problem. Is there anything you need, before I go? You still look rather ill."

"I'm wonderful, Carlie," Tarrant snapped. He was really getting tired of this. "You may leave. I'll see you tomorrow for tea."

"Okay, dear. I'll see you then."

Tarrant practically shoved Carlie out the door after that.

00

After finishing a grand total of eight hats that day, Tarrant began his journey to the White Queen's throne room. He found her there, waiting patiently for his arrival.

"Hatter!" She exclaimed, standing up, giving him a hug and looking him over. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, my Queen," Tarrant replied, bowing slightly to her. "What may I assist you with?"

"You know that you may call me Mirana. We are friends, Hatter."

"Alright. What may I assist you with, Mirana?"

The queen chucked. "Let's take a walk, yes?"

Tarrant nodded and followed Mirana down one of the hallways, eventually catching up to her fast strides and walking beside her.

"I've called you here because I am your friend and I, like your sister and Alice, am also concerned about you."

Tarrant sighed loudly. "I assure you that I am fine."

Mirana said nothing, but led them to the door of one of the numerous rooms in the castle. "We can talk privately in here," she said, opening the door. It was a small room, with several comfortable looking chairs. The walls were painted a light purple, and the floor was a checkerboard of black and white tiles. Mirana sat on a chair, and motioned for Tarrant to sit across from her.

"Hatter, I do not think that you are fine. I know of your encounter with Stayne, and it is imperative that you get tested. It is obvious that you are not well, and as much as you may want to deny it, I cannot sit back and allow you to put yourself in danger because you cannot face up to the fact that you are probably pregnant. You know what the Red Queen will do if she finds out."

Tarrant nodded. "I know, milady. And I know that something is... wrong... but what would I do, even if I was... you know? I'd be in danger either way."

"Carlie has mentioned that there is a place in Overland that you could go to that specializes in cases like yours. Alice suggested it. I would do everything in my power to ensure that you were able to get there safely."

"But... I'd be away from everyone... from you, and Carlie, and Alice..."

"I'm sure your friends and sister would visit you, and I would as well. We _can_ get to Overland, you know."

"Alright... alright, I'll take a test, if I can find someone who can provide it without turning me in."

Mirana smiled. "That won't be a problem. My fiancé, Harvey Montgomery, is a doctor, you see. I'm sure he'd be happy to help you. Confidentially, of course.

00

Early the next morning, Tarrant returned to the White Queen's castle, intending to meet Dr. Montgomery. Mirana had arranged for them to see each other before most of the other castle residents woke up.

Mirana, of course, was there with Tarrant for moral support. She led him to another room in the castle, where Dr. Montgomery worked. Tarrant followed her down the hallways nervously. Eventually Mirana stopped in front of a door and knocked on it. "Harvey, dear?"

Soon enough the door opened. Tarrant came face to face with a man that was slightly shorter than himself, with brown hair and kind looking eyes. He had a very handsome face, too.

"Hello, love," The doctor greeted Mirana, leaning in to give her a kiss.

Mirana kissed him back, then turned to Tarrant. "Harvey, this is our royal hatter, Tarrant Hightopp. I'm sure you're familiar with his sister, Carlie, the royal seamstress?"

"Ah, yes, I know her. She does a wonderful job tailoring lab coats. I'm Dr. Montgomery," he said, extending his hand to Tarrant.

"It's nice to meet you," Tarrant said, quietly.

Dr. Montgomery nodded, motioning for the two to follow him into his office. Tarrant went in first, and Mirana followed, closing the door behind them.

"Please take a seat," the doctor said, pointing Tarrant to what looked like an exam table. It was covered with white fabric with purple stripes. Tarrant hopped up onto it.

"Mirana tells me that you need to take a pregnancy test," Montgomery continued.

Tarrant nodded, casting his eyes down towards his feet. He felt very ashamed that this was even a possibility.

"Now, Tarrant, there is nothing to be ashamed of. These things happen. However, as you know, the Red Queen prohibits male pregnancy, on pain of death, so obviously, if anyone asks, this exam never happened. If you are pregnant, than your secret is safe with me."

"Thank you," Tarrant mumbled, glancing up at the doctor.

"Before we do the test, may you please explain your symptoms to me? I'd like to rule out any other possibilities."

"Well," Tarrant began, removing his hat and nervously playing with the ribbons on it, "I've been throwing up a lot lately, and I am told that my moods are becoming more erratic... not that that means much," He chuckled. "And I've had some odd food cravings, and I've gained a bit of weight... My clothes are getting tighter."

"Yes, those sound like the correct symptoms. I'm going to assume that you've definitely had sexual intercourse with another person recently, then?"

Tarrant cringed, but nodded, "...Yes."

"Alright. We'll do the test, then. All I'll need from you is a drop of blood. I have the solution ready for it."

Tarrant held out his hand, closing his eyes as Dr. Montgomery pricked him with a needle, holding a small glass filled with clear liquid under his fingers to catch the blood. The drops of blood fell into the solution, swirling around into a spiral shape before disappearing completely. Tarrant and Mirana watched, waiting for an answer.

The doctor sighed and then spoke up. "Well, it's positive."

"How can you tell?" Mirana asked.

"The spiral went counter clockwise. It only does that if the person is pregnant."

Tarrant's face fell, and tears began to build in his eyes.

Mirana frowned, got up, and pulled her friend into a hug. "There, there," She said, rubbing his back gently. "It's alright. We'll help you. It'll be fine. Harvey, can you tell how far along he is?"

"I'd say about two months, based on how long the spiral spun around for. We'll have to keep you in hiding until you give birth," the doctor said, watching as Mirana continued to rub Tarrant's back as he cried. The doctor pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, and handed it to the orange-haired man. Tarrant accepted it gratefully, wiping his tears and blowing his nose.

"We know of a place that we can take him," Mirana explained. "It's in Overland."

Hearing about the place again, far away from everyone he loved, caused Tarrant to burst into tears for a second time. Mirana said nothing, just held him tighter.

00

A day after Mort spoke to Ichabod, the constable was ready to leave. He felt considerably better, and seemed to be actually looking forward to going home with Katrina and Jackson.

He said his goodbyes to everyone over dinner that evening, promising to visit, as his and Katrina's apartment was only a few blocks away. Everyone wished him well, and he was on his way by sundown. The shelter population was getting smaller and smaller, now with only Sam, Gilbert, Edward, Sweeney and Mort remaining. That was about to change, though.

Just an hour after Ichabod had left, there was a knock at the front door. Ashley answered it and was surprised to see a young blonde woman, a woman dressed all in white, a very tall woman with red hair, and a very, very pale man with orange hair, very colorful clothes, and a very interesting hat.

"May I help you?" She asked.

"Is this St. Joseph's Shelter for Men?" The woman in white asked.

"Yes, it is."

"We have a patient for you, then," The woman in white continued. "May we come in?"

"Um. Sure," Ashley replied, letting them in. "We can speak in the common room... I'll get Dr. Schnabel, he runs this place." She left the odd group sitting on the couches while she tried to locate the doctor, finally returning a few minutes later.

"Hello," Dr. Schnabel said, extending his hand to each of them. "I'm Dr. Leonard Schnabel, and I am the head physician and manager of this shelter."

"I'm Mirana, and this is Carlie, Alice, and Tarrant," Mirana said, pointing to each of them.

"How may I help you?"

"Well, you see," Alice started. "Our friend Tarrant here has recently discovered that he is pregnant." She noticed Tarrant fidgeting around nervously out of the corner of her eye and rested a hand on his knee to calm him. "And we heard that your shelter takes people in his condition."

"Yes. I have extensive experience with male pregnancies, and would provide him room and board and medical attention."

"We've heard good things about your shelter, and obviously, we'd want Tarrant to receive the best possible care, so we'd be willing to pay whatever cost was necessary," Mirana said, pulling a small white, sparkly bag out. "Money would be of no object."

"Well... I actually run this place for free," Dr. Schnabel said, watching as Mirana poured out a small pile of what looked to be diamonds, or some other precious stones into her palm. He could get all new equipment with the money he'd get from something like that! "But... if you could pay, I would put all of the money towards making this shelter better for the residents."

"Of course." Mirana slipped the stones back into the bag and handed it to the doctor. "As long as our friend receives good care, then there will be more of that."

"Thank you," The doctor said, taking the bag. "Would you like to have a tour of the facility?"

"That would be wonderful, right, Tarrant?" Mirana asked, nudging her friend, who was once again fidgeting, this time playing with the fabric of his shirt.

"Oh, um, yes," He replied.

"Great. Follow me and we'll get started. By the way," The doctor said, motioning towards Ashley. "This is Ashley Barnes. She is a resident nurse here."

Everyone shook Ashley's hand, and then got up to follow the doctor.

"We were just sitting in the common room," Schnabel explained, as they walked down a hallway. "All of the residents have access to that. We currently have five other men living here. As of now, everyone has their own rooms, except for two who share, but if it starts getting crowded we often double up the rooms. However... since you're so helpful towards my institution, I can make sure that Tarrant has his own room."

"That would be preferable," Mirana said.

The doctor opened a door, letting everyone inside. "This is one of our three exam rooms. They are also used for deliveries. They are all laid out the same. One is on the second floor, and two are down here."

The four glanced around at the machines and medical devices that were there. Tarrant seemed to get even more nervous. This place was much, much different than Underland. Sensing this, Carlie took hold of Tarrant's hand, trying to relax him.

"We have a full kitchen and a dining room," The doctor explained as they walked backout of the hallway. "I provide the residents with breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Occasionally we have group activities, and physical exams are performed once a month, unless the resident has a medical problem that requires immediate attention."

"Wonderful," Mirana said, looking everything over, "This sounds like the right place for Tarrant. Do you like it, dear?" she asked, looking at her friend.

"It's nice..." Tarrant answered, though his eyes looked very sad.

"And do you accept visitors?" Mirana asked.

"Yes, you may visit your friend any time, if that's what you're asking."

Tarrant's eyes seemed to light up a bit more when he heard that.

"Perfect."

The tour ended back in the common room, where everyone once again sat down.

"So, would you like to spend the night here?" Dr. Schnabel asked Tarrant.

Tarrant looked at Alice, who nodded 'yes' to him, then he looked to his sister.

"You'll be fine, little brother," The said, wrapping an arm around him.

"I'll stay," He finally said.

"Great. Now, I'll just need some information on you, and I'll show you to your room right after."

00

Above Tarrant, Carlie, Alice, and Mirana, Sweeney was lying in bed, curled into a ball, trying his best not to make too much noise. His stomach was killing him. He laid there for what felt like hours until Ashley discovered him, having gone up to make sure he was okay.

"Mr. Todd, what's wrong?!" She asked, running over to the bed once she caught sight of him.

"Ugh…" He sighed softly, curling up even more.

"What hurts?"

Sweeney mumbled something into his pillow, but Ashley couldn't make it out.

"I'm sorry? Mr. Todd, you need to speak up."

"I said my stomach hurts," He hissed, clawing at the sheets on the bed as he groaned again.

"For how long? I need you to turn over, so I can examine you."

Sweeney shook his head 'no'. "It hurts..."

Ashley frowned, and took a seat on the edge of the bed. She rested a hand on Sweeney's back and began rubbing gently. He uncurled himself a little bit, leaning towards her touch.

"Come on, sweetheart," She said, hoping that perhaps a little kindness would encourage Sweeney to move so she could examine him. "Can you turn over for me now?"

Sweeney nodded slowly, and forced himself to turn onto his back. Now that she could see his face, Ashley could see tears forming in his eyes. Sweeney kept blinking them back, though.

"Show me where it hurts."

Sweeney moved his hand to his lower stomach. "Here..."

"Is it constant pain, or on and off?"

"On and off..."

Ashley began prodding Sweeney's stomach gently, trying to figure out exactly where the pain was coming from.

"I think you're having false contractions, like Edward had," She finally said.

"Make it stop…" He whispered, blinking back more tears.

"I'll get Dr. Schnabel to give you something for it, okay?"

"Yes, please..."

"I'll be right back." Ashley left the room, and raced down the stairs. Eventually she found Dr. Schnabel in one of the exam rooms, talking to Tarrant.

"I'm sorry to interrupt you," She said, poking her head in. "But Mr. Todd is having false contractions. Can you get him something for it?

"Yes. Tarrant, may you please give me a minute? One of our other residents is not feeling well."

"Sure," Tarrant said, swinging his feet. He was sitting on the side of the exam table.

Dr. Schnabel turned around, looking through a box of pill bottles. He pulled out two pills and handed them to Ashley. "Give him these Vicodins. Make sure he drinks some water with it and eats something later. It's probably going to make him tired. I'll be up in a little bit to examine him, too."

"Thank you!" She said, taking the pills. She ran to the kitchen, got a bottle of water, then ran back up the stairs, to once again find Sweeney curled up tightly and writhing in agony.

"I have some medication for you," She said, taking her spot on the edge of the bed again.

Sweeney just grunted, and turned on his back again.

Ashley pressed the pills into his hand, and opened the bottle of water. "Take those and drink this," She said.

Sweeney swallowed the pills and the water, sighing as he lay back down.

"It'll kick in soon," Ashley said. "And Dr. Schnabel is going to come look at you."

"Okay..." Sweeney said. under his breath. He once again pressed his hand to his stomach, rubbing to make the pain stop.

"Just... relax," Ashley said, moving Sweeney's hand away and replacing it with hers, "Close your eyes. You'll feel better soon."

Within a few moments, the painkillers did indeed begin to kick in, and Sweeney's breathing began to slow. Just as he was about to fall asleep, the door to his room cracked open, and Dr. Schnabel walked in.

"Hey," He said kindly. "How are you doing?"

Sweeney opened his eyes and looked at the doctor. "Tired... but feeling better."

"Good. Let me just examine you real fast. Nothing intrusive, just want to make sure it was false contractions."

"Okay," Sweeney said, weakly.

Ashley got up off the bed to let Dr. Schnabel near Sweeney. The doctor put his stethoscope into his ears, and pressed the other end to Sweeney's stomach.

"Sounds okay. No internal bleeding or anything," He said somewhat jokingly. "And you told Ashley that the pain was on and off?"

"Mm-hm," Sweeney sighed.

"Alright. Well, you'll be okay. Just rest. Sometimes these things happen... poor Edward had the same problem a few times. If you start feeling pain again, call me or Ashley and we'll come up. Ashley will check on you in a few hours, too."

"Okay..."

Ashley stood up to leave, following the doctor out. "See you later, Mr. Todd. Sweet dreams."

00

As Dr. Schnabel was walking back downstairs, he ran into Mirana, who was apparently looking for him.

"Oh, hello. Is Tarrant settled in?" He asked.

"Carlie and Alice are with him, I was actually looking for you because there were some things I wanted to talk to you about regarding him."

Dr. Schnabel nodded. "Come to my office, then. We can talk confidentially there."

Mirana followed the doctor down the hallway and into his office, where he closed the door behind them.

"Please take a seat," He said, motioning towards one of the chairs that were situated in front of his desk.

"So, what would you like to discuss?" Schnabel asked, once Mirana was sitting.

"I thought that you should know the story behind Tarrant's… situation."

"Go on."

Mirana thought for a moment, trying to figure out how to explain everything without directly mentioning Underland. The doctor would probably think she was insane if she described it.

"Well, where we come from, there's a woman who really doesn't like Tarrant, and a few months ago, he went to her house."

"Okay."

"She kept him there, and as a form of torture, her friend raped him."

"Oh my lord," Dr. Schnabel said, shocked. "That's horrible! Did you call the police? You're from England, right? There has to be something they can do there!"

"It doesn't really work like that. Not where we are."

The doctor nodded. "I understand. The police often do not want to arrest wealthier people, and obviously you're from a better community. I've heard of that before."

"Er… Yes, that's it. Exactly," Mirana said, happy that the doctor had given her an excuse. "Anyway, he doesn't seem to acknowledge what happened. He won't discuss it. I just want to ensure that you're careful with him, and that if he decides to talk about it, there will be someone to help him."

"I actually have a PhD in psychology along with my medical degree, so I'd be more than willing to have therapy sessions with him… or just to listen to him, if he needed it."

"Good. Thank you. He's a good man. He's got a few problems, but overall, he's got a good heart."

Dr. Schnabel smiled. "I'm glad to help."

Mirana stood up from the chair. "I think I'm going to go check on him now. Please tell no one of this discussion."

"Of course."

Mirana flashed the doctor a smile as she left the room.

Tarrant's bedroom was on the first floor, a few doors down, and she found it fairly easily. Tarrant was there, along with Carlie and Alice. Another man with blondish hair and glasses was also in the room.

"Hello," Mirana greeted everyone.

"Hi," Alice said, "This is Mort. He was just introducing himself to Tarrant. He lives here too, with his son, Anakin."

"Anakin? What a lovely name!" Mirana exclaimed, shaking Mort's hand.

"Thanks! So you're into Star Wars too?"

"…Star Wars…?" Mirana asked, confused. "What is that?"

Mort frowned. "Ah, I knew it was too good to be true. A hot chick that likes Star Wars. Oh well. It's a series of movies."

"Interesting."

"It's probably the best movie series EVER," Mort said.

"Very nice," Mirana said, unsure of what else to say. "So, what do you do, Mort?" she started changing the subject.

"I'm a writer. Well, I was. I don't write as often anymore."

"Hmm. Tarrant here is a hatter. He is creative, just like you must be."

Mort shrugged. "Probably, but I can't sew for shit. Oh, crap," He said, looking at his watch. "I have to go check on Anakin. I came down for food twenty minutes ago and ended up here. Nice to meet you all."

Everyone waved goodbye to Mort as he left the room.

Mirana looked at Tarrant, who was still looking very sad.

"Come on, Tarrant, there's no reason to be sad. You've made a new friend already! I bet you and Mort will have loads to talk about."

Tarrant shrugged. "I suppose so."

Carlie wrapped an arm around her brother again, holding him close. "We'll come visit you, I promise."

Tarrant nodded, "I hope so. I'll be lost without you all."

Carlie leaned down and kissed Tarrant's forehead. "You'll be perfectly fine." She glanced up at Mirana, who looked slightly nervous.

"If Tarrant is all settled in, then I'm afraid we must be going. The portal we used to get to Overland will close soon… we must leave now to catch it."

Tarrant frowned, his eyes turning a dark shade of brown. "I'll miss you," He said softly, not bothering to get up as Carlie and Alice left his side.

"We'll be back. Take care of yourself, love," Mirana said, leading the other two women out.

Tarrant nodded, watching as they left. As soon as they were gone, he curled up on his bed, hugging his pillow while he tried to go to sleep.

00

Tarrant slept for a very long time, almost twelve straight hours. He was woken up the next morning by Ashley, who wanted to get him up for breakfast. Tarrant just nodded at her request, not wanting to get out of bed, even if he was really hungry. He was still upset about everything and he missed his friends and sister tremendously. In fact, the night before, he'd dreamed that he was back in Underland, and that everything was fine – he wasn't pregnant, and he was living his normal life… He wished that it had been real, and not just a dream.

Eventually he made his way out of bed, dressing in his colorful clothes and hat before leaving.

The dining room was easy to find, and Tarrant walked in quietly, feeling very nervous. Some people were already there. Mort was sitting with Anakin, so at least he recognized someone. He took a seat in between the writer and a very pale man with scissors for hands.

"Hello," Edward said, somewhat surprised that the new resident hadn't even given him a second look. He was used to people staring at him when they first met him. He wondered if this guy was different somehow, or blind, or something. Yeah, probably blind, he thought to himself.

"Good morning," Tarrant mumbled, taking a piece of toast. He was hungry but he felt sick at the same time, probably a combination of morning sickness and nerves.

"I'm Edward," The pale man continued.

"Tarrant. You may call me Hatter, though, if you'd like."

"Hatter?"

"I make hats." Tarrant said, nibbling a little at his food.

"I like hats!" came a voice from the other side of the table. A younger man with brown hair and a fedora was talking to him.

"As I can see. That's a nice fedora you've got."

"I like your hat too. Did you make it? I'm Sam, by the way."

"I made it many years ago," Tarrant replied, setting the rest of his food down. It was starting to make him feel sick. Maybe just having some tea would be better.

"Wow… That's cool!"

Tarrant half smiled. "Thanks."

"So, how many months are you?" Another resident - a guy with red hair- asked.

"Two months…" Tarrant whispered, desperately wishing to change the subject.

"Cool."

Tarrant nodded, and began pouring himself some tea. He took a sip of it, cringing at the taste. The tea in Overland was horrid compared to the tea in Underland. He wondered how people could drink this stuff regularly.

"You're from Scotland, right?" Gilbert asked, trying to get more info from the quiet new guest.

"Technically," Tarrant answered, "My clan is from Scotland."

"Neat. Mr. Todd is from England. He's upstairs on bed rest, but maybe you can go meet him later."

"He's got crazy hair like you," Sam added, smiling. "Except it's black with a white streak. I bet you guys would get along."

"Interesting…" Tarrant said halfheartedly. "I'll go see him at some point."

No one talked much after that, as it was apparent that Tarrant really didn't feel like having a conversation. He managed to slip out of the room a bit later, choosing to spend the day once again in bed.

00

Later in the afternoon, Gilbert came into the common room, intending to watch some television. He found Mort sprawled out on the couch, with Buster at his feet and a heating pad on his stomach.

"Hey," Gilbert said, sitting on the other couch. "How's it going?"

"Just fucking great," Mort replied.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, just the fact that I've got horrible cramps, I'm sweating, I'm bloated and all I want is some fucking ice cream and we're all out."

Gilbert raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like you're back on your monthlies."

"No shit."

"Can I get you anything, then? Some Tylenol, maybe? And where's Anakin?"

"Yes you can get me some Tylenol. He's at that daycare that Dr. Schnabel signed him up for. Thank God, really. Gives me a few hours to myself."

"Okay." Gilbert hoisted himself up. "I'll be right back."

He returned to the common room a minute later, holding a bottle of pills and a glass of water. "Here you go."

Mort took the pills and chugged the water, setting the glass down on the floor after he was done.

"Can you check to see if there's any ice cream?" He asked, giving Gilbert a pleading look.

"You just said that we were all out of it."

"Well maybe I was wrong. Or maybe I didn't really look. Either way, can you check?"

Gilbert sighed. "Yeah, sure."

Sure enough, there was a large container of chocolate ice cream in the freezer. Gilbert debating putting some of it into a bowl, but decided that if Mort was as bad off as he said he was, he'd probably just eat the whole thing any way. The red head ended up sticking a spoon in it and bringing it out.

Mort took one look at the ice cream, and his face lit up. "I LOVE YOU!" he said, accepting the container. "You're the best!"

"No problem," Gilbert replied, watching as Mort shoved several large spoonfuls of ice cream into his mouth. "You might want to slow down with that. You're gonna make yourself sick."

"Okay, Mom," Mort replied sarcastically, before eating another huge spoonful.

"Suit yourself. Just don't come bitching at me when you're not feeling well."

Mort shrugged, "Yeah, yeah. Can you shut up now? I'm trying to watch The Simpsons."

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "I'm going to go anyway. See you later, Mort. Hope you feel better soon."

"'Kay."

Just as Gilbert left, Mort felt a sudden shift in his emotions. He went from being very angry to very sad, for no real reason.

"Stupid hormones," He said, trying his best not to cry.


	35. Chapter 35

******A/N: Phish Tacko beta'd this. Go check out her page, she's an awesome author!**

**Chapter 35**

Edward was bored. He missed Jack a lot, and it seemed like overall there wasn't much he could do. Being 8 months pregnant, he had a hard time standing outside and cutting the hedges for long periods of time. He'd cut Sam's hair earlier in the day, but no one else seemed to want a haircut, so here he was, sitting on his bed, staring at the floor.

Then, a thought crossed his mind. Maybe he could go see Tarrant. He'd been nice enough, at least.

Edward walked down the hallway, and found that Tarrant's room was actually right across from his room. He knocked on the door. "Hello?"

"Come in," came the reply.

Edward pushed the door open, to find Tarrant lying on his back on the bed, drawing random designs in the air. The hatter turned to look at him.

"What brings you here, Edward?"

"I just wanted to see if you were busy. Maybe we could go find something to do… it's pretty boring here today."

"Yes," Tarrant said, sitting up. "I'm bored too. I don't know how you people live like this, here. Where I come from everything's so much brighter and bigger and more unique."

"You mean in Scotland?"

Tarrant blanked for a second, before remembering that he couldn't talk about Underland. "Yes, in Scotland."

"Funny. I thought it would be sort of similar to the US, except with more rain and more fields."

"Uh, it's not… that different, I guess."

"Okay."

"Perhaps we can have tea, in the back of the shelter? I noticed that there was a table back there when I was coming in."

"Sure... but…" Edward looked down at his scissors sadly.

Tarrant got what he meant. "Don't worry. We'll figure it out."

"Okay."

Edward led Tarrant to the kitchen, passing the common room on the way. Mort was still lying on the couch, grumbling about something, while Buster seemed to be licking an empty carton of ice cream that was placed on the floor.

"Your cat is eating that ice cream," Edward said, not wanting Buster to get sick.

Mort mumbled something in reply then turned over, curling up onto the couch even further.

"Are you okay, Mort?" Edward asked, noticing how pale Mort seemed.

Mort shook his head. "Should've listened to Gilbert. Ugh."

"O…kay. What did Gilbert say?"

"'Don't eat all the ice cream so fast, Mort'" he said, trying his best to mimic Gilbert's voice. "Stupid bastard was right."

""I'm sorry," Edward said. "Do you want us to bring you anything? I think there's some Pepto Bismol…"

Mort groaned, the thought of putting anything else in his stomach making him feel even worse. "No thanks, I'll suffer."

Edward shrugged, then continued leading Tarrant to the kitchen.

"There's different types of tea in that cabinet up there," Edward told him. "If you could get it down."

Tarrant nodded, got up on the tips of his toes and opened the cabinet. He was rather short, so it wasn't an easy task to get the tea out, but he managed to do it. He placed a few different boxes on the counter, looking them over. "Peppermint, chamomile, and oolong," he read off.

"I like chamomile," Edward said.

"I'll try it. Where's your tea kettle?" Tarrant asked.

"I think it's in the other cabinet."

Hatter looked around, checking each of the cabinets until he found it. He filled it with water, and turned on the stove.

The two stood there silently while the water boiled, lost in their own thoughts. Finally Edward spoke up.

"I noticed that you haven't asked me about my hands."

Tarrant seemed a bit surprised by this statement. "Why would I ask you about them?"

"You don't think it's weird?" Edward asked.

"I've seen stranger things. I'm just sorry that you have to live that way."

Edward did not expect this answer at all. "Most people think it's odd… that I'm like this."

"I don't."

Before the awkward conversation could continue, the tea kettle started to whistle. Hatter grabbed a handkerchief from his pocket, and used it to pick up the steaming pot, pouring its contents into two mugs he'd set out. Once he was done, he looked around the kitchen, soon finding exactly what he was looking for: a straw. He put it in Edward's tea and picked both mugs up.

"Lead the way outside," He said.

"This way," Edward said, walking towards the back door. He pushed it open to reveal the backyard. Since it was May, the flowers were starting to bloom, and it was a nice, somewhat warm temperature.

"We can sit over there," Edward said, motioning to the picnic table.

The two sat down across from each other, enjoying the feel of the sunlight and the occasional breeze as it blew across them.

"It's such a beautiful day," Tarrant said, looking sad again. "Reminds me very much of home."

Edward frowned. "Was it usually nice out like this, then?"

"Yes. I wonder if my friends will come visit soon…"

"I hope so," Edward said.

Tarrant nodded, taking a sip of his tea.

"At least you have friends," Edward added, softly.

"The people here seem to treat you nicely. Are they not your friends?" Tarrant asked.

"I dunno. I think they're just nice because they feel bad. Sam is my friend, I think. He offered to let me live with him and his wife, Joon."

"He must care about you, if he offered that."

"I guess. Or he feels bad."

"I don't think that most people would offer up a place within their home to someone they simply felt bad for, Edward," Tarrant said, taking another sip of tea.

Edward considered this for a moment. "I guess you're right. I've just been feeling lonely since Jack left, is all."

"Jack?"

"He's a pirate. He was here before you came. We shared a room together."

"A pirate? Very interesting!"

"He was a cool guy."

"You'll have to tell me more about him. And this Sweeney Todd fellow that everyone keeps mentioning."

Edward leaned down, taking a sip of tea from his straw. "Well, for one thing, he really likes rap music," He began.


	36. Chapter 36

******A/N: Phish Tacko beta'd this. Go check out her page, she's an awesome author!**

**Chapter 36**

As Tarrant and Edward were talking about Sweeney, the man himself was upstairs talking to Gilbert. The conversation had turned to education, and Gilbert was talking about how he wanted to go to college one day.

"I was valedictorian of my graduating class," Gilbert explained. "And I was going to go to state university."

"Why didn't you go? As valedictorian, you surely would've gotten a free ride." Sweeney asked.

"Well, I wanted to go, and I actually started the first semester, but it was too much, trying to take care of Arnie and working and around that time, Mama was just starting to have… difficulties… so I dropped out."

"Hmm. Well, you could always go back, after the baby is born."

"I was considering it. If Becky could help me with the baby, and if Arnie stays with my sisters, then I might be able to go. Maybe I can go to a community college since it'll be closer."

"Seems like a good idea," Sweeney said. "Hey, can you hand me that Sharpie over there?" He asked, pointing towards the marker that was sitting on his nightstand. Gilbert reached over and handed it to him, and then watched as Sweeney began to draw on his cast. With surprising skill, he drew up "Sweeney Todd" in graffiti-like handwriting and drew a brick wall around it.

"You can do graffiti art?" Gilbert asked, surprised at how well it turned out.

"Hell yes, I can."

"Wow. You get more interesting every day. Oh…!" Gilbert groaned suddenly, bending over in pain.

Sweeney capped the marker. "What happened?"

"I think… I think my water just broke."

"Uh… Did you just…?!" Sweeney asked, noticing the dark spot near Gilbert's legs.

"I JUST TOLD YOU THAT MY WATER BROKE! GO GET HELP, FOR GOD'S SAKE!"

"Okay, okay." Sweeney picked up the phone near his bed, and dialed the number 9. Ashley had put her cell phone number on speed dial for him.

After three rings, she picked up. "What is it, Mr. Todd?"

"I think Gilbert's going into labor. He's up here with me and his water just broke!"

"I'll get the doctor and we'll be right up," Ashley said, hanging up before Sweeney could reply.

Sweeney hung up the phone and turned his attention back to Gilbert, who was beginning to hyperventilate.

"Gilbert. Breathe! Normally, I mean," He said, watching as the redhead tried to control his breathing. "There you go. In and out. They'll be up here soon to take care of you."

Gilbert took a deep breath and nodded.

Sure enough, Ashley and Dr. Schnabel appeared within two minutes.

"We're going to take you to the exam room down the hall," Dr. Schnabel explained. Ashley came up behind the bed with a wheelchair, and she and the doctor helped Gilbert get in.

"Have fun," Sweeney called as they took Gilbert out of the room. He then looked

once again at the dark spot on his comforter.

"Ick."

00

Gilbert was continuing to try to control his breathing as Ashley and Dr. Schnabel helped him onto a bed and hooked him up to various pieces of equipment. He tried to ignore the sense of embarrassment he felt when Ashley began to undress him to get him into a hospital gown. To an extent, he was grateful that the pain from the contractions was so distracting.

Once he was all set up, Ashley spoke up. "I'm going to call Becky and tell her what's going on."

"Ask her if Arnie can come too," Gilbert said, gripping the blankets on the bed as he tried to control the pain.

"Sure. You look like you're in a lot of pain… Why don't we administer the epidural now?" Ashley suggested.

Gilbert shook his head. "No, no. It's okay. It's only like… a 2 out of 10," He lied. "I'll take it if it gets worse."

Ashley didn't seem convinced, but agreed. "If that's what you'd prefer."

She walked out of the room to make her phone calls.

She returned a few minutes later, finding Gilbert to be much calmer.

"The pain of the contractions seems to have subsided for now," Dr. Schnabel explained.

"Okay. Becky says she'll be here in a little bit, and she's going to bring Arnie, and that your mom wishes you good luck."

"Thanks."

"For now, it's just a waiting game. You're only at 2 cm, so there's a while to go before you deliver," Dr. Schnabel explained. "You'll begin having contractions more frequently soon though."

"Great," Gilbert groaned.

Every hour for the next few hours, Gilbert managed to dilate another 2cm, but overall, it was a boring experience.

Becky and Arnie showed up, and the three of them were watching television when the contractions started again. This time, Gilbert couldn't help but cry out and show the horrible pain he was experiencing.

"I'll go get the doctor," Becky said, getting up from the chair she was sitting on. She pulled Dr. Schnabel into the room a few minutes later.

"I just need to see where he's at," Schnabel explained. Becky cast her gaze to the ground, to avoid staring at Gilbert, and pulled Arnie over with her, telling him to look away.

"You're fully dilated," Dr. Schnabel explained. "The baby will come very soon."

Sure enough, the contractions came on full-force very quickly. Gilbert held onto Becky's hand as he pushed and he felt like he was being ripped in two. He'd refused an epidural up until that point, for some reason wanting to give birth as naturally as possible. He couldn't explain it, it just seemed like the right way to do it.

"Go hold your brother's other hand," Becky said, noticing that Arnie was starting to wander around.

"Okay."

Arnie walked to the other side of the bed, and took hold of Gilbert's hand.

"You'll be okay, Gilbert," Arnie said, smiling at his brother.

Gilbert just groaned, tears falling down his cheeks.

"Okay, just one or two more pushes and the baby will be out," The doctor said. "I can already see its head."

"Ugh…" Gilbert groaned, gripping Arnie and Becky's hands with all of his strength.

"Okay, push."

Gilbert did as he was told, and couldn't help but let out a scream. It wasn't horribly loud, but loud enough to startle everyone in the room. He'd been taking the pain fairly well up until that point.

"One more…"

Gilbert pushed again, and the baby was finally out.

"It's a little boy," Dr. Schnabel said, taking the infant in his hands.

He showed it to Gilbert, whose face was pale and covered in perspiration. He just nodded and rested his head on his pillow, breathing heavily. Becky and Arnie were still holding his hands.

"You did great, Gilbert!" Becky said, kissing Gilbert's hand.

"It hurt…"

"I know, but you did a great job. Wait 'til you get to hold him!"

Gilbert nodded, still panting.

Dr. Schnabel cleaned the baby up, cut the umbilical cord, then again showed him to Gilbert. "Ten fingers and ten toes, he's perfectly healthy. And huge, too. 9 pounds, 10 ounces. You're a trooper for going through that without an epidural."

"Never again…" was all Gilbert said, closing his eyes as exhaustion finally won out over him.


	37. Chapter 37

******A/N: Phish Tacko beta'd this. Go check out her page, she's an awesome author!**

**Chapter 37**

From the second Tommy Grape came into the world, it seemed like all he did was cry. It wasn't a normal crying, either. It was obscenely loud and seemed to happen for no real reason at all. The kid would cry even if he wasn't hungry or tired or wet. Dr. Schnabel had described it as "colicky" and said that some babies were just like that. Gilbert was left wondering what the hell he did to deserve it.

Gilbert had finally gotten Tommy to calm down after yet another bout of screaming, this time giving him a pacifier. The pacifier worked occasionally, but often Tommy would spit it out, choosing to scream some more instead.

Gilbert was exhausted, probably even more so than he'd been after he'd given birth. Tommy woke him up every hour, on the hour. It made those nights with the nightmares seem like a cake walk.

He'd finally gone back to Becky's apartment three days after he'd given birth. Becky was working a lot, trying to support the both of them, until Gilbert was recovered enough to go back to work himself. For now, though, he was busy watching Tommy all day, and thanking his lucky stars that he didn't have a job to go to in the mornings, because there was no way he'd be able to make it, going on as little sleep as he had.

This particular afternoon had been excruciating. Gilbert's body was still sore from giving birth, since he'd not had a proper chance to rest, and Tommy had been screaming consistently for over an hour. Becky walked into the apartment only to find Gilbert sitting on the couch, head in his hands, tears running down his face. Tommy was still in his bassinet, screaming his head off. Becky quickly rushed over to Gilbert.

"What's wrong, Gilbert?" She asked, wrapping an arm around him. "What's wrong with Tommy?"

"He won't stop crying," Gilbert choked, resting his head on Becky's shoulder. "Nothing makes him stop. I can't have five minutes just to think. It's killing me. I'm so... I'm so tired, Becky!"

Becky frowned. "Let me see if I can help."

"You won't be able to. He doesn't stop."

Becky sighed, walked over to the bassinet, and picked Tommy up. Instantly, the infant was quiet.

"What...?!" Gilbert asked, dually surprised and offended. "I've been trying all afternoon to get him to quiet down... And he just shut up when you picked him up!"

Becky shrugged. "I can't explain it. But hey, let me take him for a while. You go get some sleep. You need it."

Gilbert sniffled and stood up, heading to the bedroom. "Thanks..." He mumbled.

First and foremost, he needed a shower. He took his shirt and sweats off, throwing them on the floor. They were disgusting. He'd only had time to change his clothes twice since he'd given birth, and the aforementioned outfit was covered in sweat and baby vomit. Ugh. He didn't even want to think about it right then.

Gilbert sighed as he crawled into bed 35 minutes later, pulling the covers up to his chest. He was sound asleep within moments.


	38. Chapter 38

******A/N: Phish Tacko beta'd this. Go check out her page, she's an awesome author!**

**Chapter 38**

At the shelter, Tarrant was also having a bit of a mental breakdown. He hadn't seen or heard from Carlie, Alice, or Mirana in days, and was starting to get edgy. Besides that, he'd been having flashbacks, to that night with Stayne. They would happen at the most random times. Most recently, Sam and Mort had been playing cards when it struck. Tarrant had just stood there, staring into space, mentally going back to that time... with Stayne touching him.. entering him...

He'd been staring at the wall for a good five minutes before Mort finally realized something was wrong, and snapped him out of it.

Carlie had once advised him to talk about the situation, to get it off of his chest, and Tarrant was beginning to wonder if perhaps she was right. Maybe he should discuss it with someone. Maybe it would make the flashbacks stop.

He was debating going to talk to Schnabel when there was a knock on his bedroom door.

"Yes?"

The door opened to reveal Carlie, standing there smiling.

"Hello, little brother!" She said, walking into the room.

Tarrant stood up and immediately gave her a hug. Carlie could sense that something was wrong, and held him against her, running her hands through his hair.

"How are you?" She finally asked, pulling away.

Tarrant forced a smile. "I'm fine. And you? I've missed you."

"I've missed you too. Come, let's sit down. I've brought you some things."

Tarrant walked back over to his bed, making room for Carlie to sit near him. She pulled the colorful bag she'd had around her shoulder off, and opened it.

"First, I brought you some Daffodil tea. I can't imagine you enjoy the swill they drink up here too much," She said, handing him a small package of tea bags.

Tarrant's eyes lit up. "Thank you! Yes, these Overlanders have terrible taste in tea. It's atrocious, really."

"I also brought you some fabric, thread, a few things to keep you busy while you're here," She said, pulling several bags of materials."

"Yay!" Hatter said, clapping his hands together. "What else is there?"

"Calm down, calm down. Mirana sent you some things, too."

"Oh? What'd she send?" Tarrant asked, eyes turning a bright yellow color as he became more excited.

"Well, she sent a few copies of Hatter's Weekly magazine."

"Sweet!"

"She also sent you a few books from that series you like... 'The Not-So-Excellent-Adventures of Anne Morris'."

"Awesome! Mirana's the best!"

"And she sent you some vitamins. Those are from Dr. Montgomery. He says you are to take them daily."

"Oh. That's, uh, nice," Tarrant said, scratching the back of his head.

Carlie smiled again at her brother. "So how are you holding up, overall? Do you like it here?"

Tarrant's eyes suddenly turned back to dark brown, and he frowned. "I miss Underland."

"Aww, love, we all miss you too. You'll be back soon enough, though."

Tarrant said nothing, just continued to look sad, so Carlie wrapped her arms around him again. "Don't be sad. It'll all be alright."

Tarrant sighed and leaned on his sister, letting her rub his back.

"It's late, shouldn't you be going soon?" He asked, after what felt like hours just lying in her arms.

"I can stay for a while," Carlie said. "But you look tired. You should try to rest."

She put the bag of gifts that she'd brought on the floor near the bed, and pulled up a warm-looking blanket from the edge of the bed and pulled it around him. Even though he was still in his clothes, he snuggled under the blankets, resting his head on his sister's lap. She held him until he fell asleep.

00

Carlie was walking out the front door, having left Tarrant in his bed, when she almost ran into a dark-haired man who was holding a baby.

"Sorry," The man mumbled, walking around her, before stopping and looking Carlie up and down. She was quite a few inches taller than him, but was very pretty overall.

"It's fine," Carlie said, smiling at the man.

"Do you know if Dr. Schnabel is still up?" He asked.

"I think he's awake. Did you forget your clothes inside?" Carlie asked jokingly, noticing that the dark haired man was only wearing a set of blue pajamas and slippers.

"No... Alright, thanks," The man said, opening the door. "Having a good evening."

Carlie nodded and continued on her way while the man walked inside. Mort was sitting on the couch with Edward and Anakin, watching television.

"Ichabod?!" Edward asked, surprised to see the constable there.

"Hey," Ichabod replied.

"What are you doing here? Nice PJs, by the way," Mort said.

"I needed to get away. Katrina... she's on her monthlies, and... I'm starting to get it too, and it's just better if we're apart for tonight."

"Say no more," Mort said, moving over to make room for Ichabod on the couch. "I feel your pain."

"There's more chocolate ice cream in the freezer," Edward added. "If you want some."

Mort paled at the mention of chocolate ice cream, and Ichabod gave him a strange look, but said nothing.

The group watched the television for a while before Ichabod spoke up again. "What exactly are we watching?"

"Teletubbies," Mort answered, staring at the screen as if it were the most interesting thing in the world.

"They're kinda creepy..."

"Their dancing is almost hypnotic."

Edward smirked. "I think you need to get some sleep, Mort."

"Sleep. Yes. Sleep. But first, Teletubbies."

Ichabod sat there for another few minutes, before deciding that the Teletubbies were, in fact, scary and too much for him to take right then, in his highly emotional state. "Anyone know where Dr. Schnabel is?"

"He was in his office on the phone with Becky before," Mort said, shifting Anakin around so that the baby was sitting on his other leg. "I heard there's a lot of problems with Tommy, that he's always screaming."

"Don't talk about others while they're not here," Edward said to Mort, glaring at him.

"I'm going to go find him, and see if he'll let me and Jackson spend the night," Ichabod said, ignoring them both.

"Good luck," Edward said as Ichabod left the room.

00

Ichabod walked into Dr. Schnabel's office just as he was finishing his conversation with Becky.

"Uh huh. No, I understand, I can imagine that it's frustrating... Yes, you can bring Tommy in, I'll look him over, but if he's being good for you than it's probably not a physical-"

Ichabod could hear Becky talking on the other end, but couldn't make out what she was saying. When she finished, Dr. Schnabel sighed. "Yeah, I'll see what I can do. Tomorrow morning at ten is fine. You have a good night too," He hung up the phone. The doctor jumped a little when he saw Ichabod and Jackson standing in front of his desk.

"Oh, hi, Ichabod! What brings you here at... Nine o'clock at night?"

"I need an evening away from Katrina. We're both... our cycles are kind of... coinciding, and it's just not working. We're both too emotional and I really need to be somewhere else. May we stay here tonight? Just for tonight, we'll leave tomorrow."

Dr. Schnabel stared at Ichabod, listening to everything he had to say.

"You can stay. Your old room is still free, actually. I'll have Ashley move a bassinet in so Jackson can sleep near you."

"Thank you! It's just... it's so hard," Tears began to fill Ichabod's eyes. "It wasn't this bad before I got pregnant!"

"Pregnancy often messes with your hormones. It may just be harder each month from hereon out." Seeing Ichabod begin to cry, Schnabel pulled a tissue out of the box on his desk and handed it to him. "Here."

Ichabod took it, wiping his face with his free hand. "Thank you," He sniffed.

Dr. Schnabel nodded. "Is there anything else you need?"

"Do you have anything I can take for a headache? I've felt one building since this afternoon..."

"I have some Tylenol. Go to your room, and I'll bring it to you."

"Thanks," Ichabod said, turning to leave.

He found his old room quickly, and took a seat on the bed. It was made up, but with different sheets and a different comforter than he'd had while staying there. He cradled Jackson in his arms, hoping that Ashley would come with the bassinet soon. He was starting to feel really horrible, very sick, like he was going to throw up any second. Ichabod groaned, resting a hand on his stomach, rubbing it to try to make the sick feeling go away.

Ashley appeared a minute later, with the bassinet and a bottle of Tylenol.

"Here you go," She said, taking Jackson from Ichabod's arms and tucking him in.

Ichabod opened his mouth to thank her, but before he could get any words out, he felt bile rise in his throat. Immediately, he fell to the floor, grabbing onto the wastebasket and throwing up everything he'd eaten that day.

"Well, that's not good," Ashley said, bending down to rub Ichabod's back. "Guess I'll go get the doctor, then."

00

Dr. Schnabel walked into the bedroom, with Ashley following him a few minutes later. Ichabod was still on the floor, curled up next to the wastebasket. He was conscious, but his eyes were closed.

The doctor knelt down next to him.

"Ichabod?" He asked, softly shaking the constable.

"Make it stop..." Ichabod groaned, raising a hand to his head.

"Your head hurts? How long have you been feeling sick like this?"

"Nauseous since this morning, headache since this afternoon."

Dr. Schnabel sighed. "It's probably related to your cycle. Ashley, help me help Ichabod onto the bed. Are you going to be sick again?"

Ichabod shook his head. "I don't think there's anything left..."

"Alright. Ready?"

Ashley nodded, and she and the doctor helped Ichabod up. As soon as he was on the bed, he curled up again, groaning, one hand on his head and one on his stomach.

"Ashley, go get me a shot of Reglan and a shot of Sumatriptan," Dr. Schnabel said, taking a seat on the bed next to Ichabod.

"Sure."

Dr. Schnabel looked down at the suffering man who lay before him. "It'll be okay soon. I'll give you some medication, and when you're better we will discuss various options to deal with this."

Ichabod nodded, but the movement was too much, and he was immediately overcome with nausea. He shoved the doctor out of the way and dove for the wastebasket again. He felt horrible, but nothing seemed to come up, so Ichabod spent the next few minutes dry heaving.

And then, if things couldn't get worse, Jackson began to cry. Ichabod groaned upon hearing this, the sound was making his head hurt much worse.

Ashley returned shortly after, thankfully, handed the medications, and a few alcohol wipes to the doctor and picked Jackson up. "I'll just go take him outside," She said, bouncing the baby up and down gently as she walked out of the room.

Once Ichabod seemed to be done throwing up, Dr. Schnabel once again helped him onto the bed.

"Just lie back. I'm going to give you some medication for your headache and nausea. It'll be two injections."

"Okay..."

"Let me see your arm."

Ichabod held his arm out, trembling as he did so. The doctor steadied Ichabod's hand, cleaned his arm and injected him with the medication. "It'll only take a few minutes," Schnabel explained, putting the syringe down on the bedside table. "Only one more."

Ichabod didn't even flinch as the doctor used the second needle. He felt so horrible that anything he had to go through to end his misery was worth it.

The meds worked, and within minutes, Ichabod felt almost a hundred percent better.

"That was amazing," He said, sitting up. "I feel great!"

"Yes, well, I gave you some strong stuff. Lie back down. You still need to rest, and we need to discuss this."

Ichabod laid back down. "What's there to talk about? You made everything better."

"I cannot give you injections of medications like this every time you feel sick because you're on your... monthly cycle. Obviously you're having some problems with your hormone levels, so perhaps it would be best to discuss some options for birth control that can regulate that."

"They all have a lot of side effects, though!"

"And being violently ill at least once a month is better?"

Ichabod pouted, knowing that the doctor was correct.

"You're not any good to Jackson if you're sick like this, you know," Schnabel added.

Ichabod sighed. "I know. Katrina's been pressuring me about it too. I suppose, if you can recommend something, I'll look into it."

"Good, good. I'll write up a prescription for you tomorrow. Unfortunately, though, you'll have to go through this cycle as you normally would. So, that said, you may as well prepare for the worst for the next few days."

00

The next morning, Dr. Schnabel had a busy schedule. He had given Ichabod a thorough exam around eight, and had prescribed him birth control pills. After that, he'd checked up on Sweeney, to make sure that his blood pressure was normal. He also made plans to take Sweeney's cast off the following day. At ten, Becky, Gilbert, and Tommy all came in, in the hopes that Dr. Schnabel could find out why Tommy was behaving as he was.

The doctor had to admit, that Gilbert looked worse for the wear. He had bags under his eyes, his hair was sticking up in various directions, and he looked like he hadn't changed his clothes or showered in days. Becky seemed all right, and so did Tommy. Becky was holding him, and he seemed to be behaving fine.

"So... Becky explained that Tommy is having some behavioral issues?" Schnabel began, once everyone was seated.

"He's good for her but he's horrible with me." Gilbert said. "And I watch him all day while she's at work... he's always screaming, always crying... It literally does not stop!"

"Hmm, would you mind holding him, so I can see how he reacts?"

Gilbert sighed, but held out his hands so that Becky could pass him the baby. The second that Gilbert had him, Tommy started screaming at the top of his lungs. The sudden sound made the doctor jump.

"Okay, okay. May I hold him?" He shouted over the crying.

Gilbert handed Tommy to the doctor, and the baby immediately stopped crying.

"What the hell?!" Gilbert asked, frustrated. "Why does he do that?!"

"Odd. I'm going to do a physical exam," Schnabel said, getting up from his desk and bringing Tommy over to an exam table. "Becky, hold him please?"

Becky nodded and took the baby, sitting on the table with Tommy in her lap.

Dr. Schnabel checked Tommy's ears, eyes, throat, reflexes... everything that he could think of. Finally, he came to an conclusion.

"Well," He began. "I'm not sure how to say this nicely, but nothing is wrong with your son physically. It appears as though he simply does not like you, Gilbert."

"Seriously?" Gilbert asked.

The doctor nodded. "I'm sorry."

"Wow," Gilbert replied. "Well, I guess it's going to be a long few months, then."


	39. Chapter 39

******A/N: Phish Tacko beta'd this. Go check out her page, she's an awesome author!**

**Chapter 39**

Before leaving, Gilbert left Tommy with Becky and went to go see how everyone still at the shelter was doing. Since he'd gone back home, he hadn't had much contact with them, save for a few phone conversations with Sam. He found everyone gathered upstairs in Sweeney's room, sitting around his bed, staring at his laptop.

"Hey, guys," Gilbert said, walking into the room.

Everyone looked up at him.

"Jack sent us an email and a video of him and Angelica and Angela," Edward explained, smiling.

"Well, he sent _me_ an email," Sweeney added.

"But he addressed it to all of us," Sam replied calmly.

"How are they doing?" Gilbert asked, ignoring Sweeney and Sam's banter.

"They are well. They sailed to Rio and I think they're staying there for a few days. Here, come watch the video," Edward said, moving so that Gilbert could take a look.

Sweeney clicked the 'play' button, and immediately an image of Jack, who was holding Angela, and Angelica came up. They were standing in front of the giant Cristo Redentor statue that overlooked the city.

"_Hola, amigos_," Angelica began. "We're in Rio. We wanted to see how you're doing."

"We're doing fine, as you can see," Jack cut in. "Angela's doing well. We're in Rio. You can see the Cristo Redentor statue behind us."

"It means 'Christ the Redeemer' in English," Angelica said.

"We'll be here for a few more days before heading out to sea again, probably going to stop in the Dominican Republic next. We hope you're all doing good! Did anyone else have babies yet?" Jack spoke again.

"Write us back. We'll send another video soon. _¡Adios!_" Angelica finished, and the video ended.

Gilbert smiled. "Looks like they're having a lot of fun."

"Yep. How's childrearing going for you, by the way?" Sweeney asked, noticing how tired Gilbert looked.

"Horrible."

"Care to elaborate?" Mort spoke up for the first time.

"Tommy won't shut up when he's with me. Ever. Dr. Schnabel says he doesn't like me. He's quiet with everyone else but me."

"Wow. That's... shitty," Sweeney replied, "And pretty insulting to you. I mean, the kid hasn't even been here a month and he hates you already."

Gilbert sighed, and was about to say something when Sam started.

"He doesn't hate Gilbert. He's just... fussy. Some kids are weird like that. I'm sure in time he'll grow to love you very much."

Gilbert snorted. "Yeah, okay. I guess we'll see. Well, I've got to be going. Glad you see you're all doing well. Sam, you'll call me when you have the baby, right?"

"Of course!"

"Great. See you guys later."

"Later," everyone called out in reply.

00

That evening, Sweeney had settled into his routine of watching Youtube videos. One titled "Slenderman Documentary" caught his attention. He clicked on the link, watching as the myth was discussed. He had to admit, the thought of Slenderman freaked him out. Some tall skinny guy in a suit with no face, who could stretch out his body and steal his victims, possibly taking them to another dimension? It was just plain creepy, even if it wasn't real.

Around eleven, he turned in for the night. He turned off the light, and pulled the covers up, but found he couldn't sleep. Couldn't even close his eyes. He was afraid that something was in the room with him. Slenderman, perhaps.

Sweeney switched the light back on, and sat up in bed, looking around the room. He couldn't see anything... except for a huge shadow in the corner of the room. It frightened him, and he let out a squeak. Sweeney surprised even himself with it.

Then, there came footsteps.

"Shit," Sweeney cursed silently, wondering if maybe it was Slenderman coming to get him. Sure, it wasn't logical in the least, but he was scared, it was late, and he was alone...

He pulled the covers up to his nose, trying to hide from whatever was about to enter the room. Realistically, he knew he couldn't fight the demon off himself, not in his condition.

The doorknob turned slowly, and Sweeney braced himself, fully expecting to be attacked... when Sam walked in.

"Hey, are you okay? I heard a scream," came the friendly voice.

Sweeney looked up from the covers, dropping them immediately.

"Um..." He started, eyes darting around the room, trying to decide whether to make up an excuse or just be honest with his housemate. Eventually he decided just to be honest. Sam was capable of walking, after all. Maybe he could check the room for him.

"I got kind of scared," He finally admitted. "I thought something was coming to get me."

"Oh. What did you think was coming?"

"Slenderman..." Sweeney said, blushing.

"That thing on the internet?"

Sweeney nodded. "Yes. I'm an idiot."

"He's not real, you know."

Sweeney shrugged. "It still just... It freaked me the fuck out. I don't want to turn the lights out. What if he's in the room somewhere?"

Sam cracked a smile. "Would it make you feel better if I checked the room over?"

"Please," Sweeney whispered.

"Sure."

Sam began walking around the room, opening the closet doors and checking around the curtains.

"Nothing's here."

"Okay..." Sweeney said, not entirely convinced.

"Do you still think he's coming to get you?"

"...Maybe."

Sam sighed and took a seat on the edge of the bed. "It's just a meme that was made up on Somethingawful. You know, that website with all the trolls on it? It's not real."

"I know... I'm just... a small part of me can't stop thinking it is."

"Well.. are you going to be able to sleep?"

"Probably not... Not with the lights out, at least."

Sam took a deep breath, considering whether he should ask the question on his mind. On one hand, he really wanted to sleep in his own bed. Dealing with Gilbert's nightmares had taken a lot out of him. On the other hand, it was the right thing to do... Sam knew what the best decision was.

"Do you want me to stay up here with you?"

Sweeney opened his mouth, but no words came out. The look on his face said it all, though.

"Right. Let me just go get my blanket, and I'll be right up."

"Okay..." Sweeney replied, blushing again.

When Sam returned a minute later, Sweeney was laying down, curled up on the bed, face resting away from where he could fully see it. Soon enough, he understood why Sweeney was hiding from him, though. The barber's sniffling gave it away easily enough.

Sam ended up sneaking out of Sweeney's bedroom early the next morning, before the barber had woken up. He was hungry and tired– Sweeney had kept him up most of the night, sniffling and crying softly. Sam had asked if he was okay a few times, but had gotten no reply. Sweeney had too much pride to admit that he was crying, even if it was obvious.

Sam arrived at the breakfast table to find Mort and Tarrant already there. Buster was eating off the table, as usual, and Anakin was in a high chair that Mort had conned Dr. Schnabel into buying for him since he was to be there for a while.

"Good morning," Mort said, noticing how tired Sam looked.

"'Morning," Sam mumbled, taking a seat near Tarrant.

Tarrant, who was tired too, acknowledged him with a curt nod.

"So, I heard you were up in Mr. Todd's room last night? What, the big bad barber up there is afraid that Slenderman will come get him in the middle of the night?"

Sam glared at Mort, in no mood for his bullshit. "Everyone gets scared, Mort. And how do you know about that, anyway?"

"I hear things."

"You mean that you eavesdrop. You need a life. Go find a friend, something to do," Sam said, not caring how harsh his words were.

Mort actually looked kind of hurt by Sam's statement, but he didn't verbally acknowledge it.

"I have Buster. He's a great friend."

"I meant a people-friend. Someone you can talk to and do things with so you have something to do besides gossip about everyone here."

Mort frowned. Sam was right to an extent. He really did not have any friends.

"Whatever," Mort said, looking down at his food. He refused to make eye contact with Sam or anyone else for the rest of the meal, not that it bothered Sam or Tarrant much.

After breakfast, Mort went upstairs to his room and tried to think of various ways that he could meet people. He'd tried Facebook before, but he'd only friended random people and a lot of them seemed to get offended by his statements and attitude. Maybe that Twitter thing would work.

A little while later, he'd set up a twitter account and was posting messages and adding as many people as he could. A few added him back. No one really replied to his posts, but that was okay for now. He was new at this.

Mort found a few celebrities profiles, and added them as well. He was very surprised when he received an email saying that one of them had begun following him back, and he raced down to tell Sam.

"YO, SAM!" He said, knocking on Sam's door as loudly as possible.

"What…?!" came a soft voice.

"YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHO'S FOLLOWING ME ON TWITTER!" Mort said as he barged into the room. He found Sam lying on his bed, looking like he'd just woken up.

"Did I disturb you?" Mort asked.

"I was taking a nap, but I'm up now. Who followed you on Twitter?"

"JOHNNY DEPP! THE ACTOR!"

"Whoa," Sam said, sitting up. It took him a few seconds, being as pregnant as he was. "How'd you manage that?"

"I don't know! I just followed him and he added me!"

"Well, you do look kind of like him, maybe that's why he chose you," Sam replied.

"Maybe. But wow– Awesome, right?!" Mort said excitedly.

"Very cool, Mort. I'm happy for you."

Mort smiled. "I have to go tell everyone else!" He said, practically skipping out of the room.

"Have fun," Sam called out after him.

00

While Mort was running around telling everyone about his new Twitter 'friend', Sweeney was getting his cast removed by Dr. Schnabel.

"Can't you go faster?" Sweeney asked. "It's been itching me forever!"

"It's been on for months, Mr. Todd," Dr. Schnabel replied. "You can deal with it for another five minutes."

Sweeney scowled, but said nothing. He was about as tired as Sam was, having been up until the early morning hours. Having Sam near him had definitely helped, but he'd had a hard time sleeping overall. It had put him in a very bad mood.

"Alright," Dr. Schnabel said, cutting a piece of the plaster away. "I guess you'll want me to preserve this drawing you've got here?"

Sweeney shrugged. "Yeah, I guess."

A few more cuts and the cast was off, and Sweeney's leg was finally free.

"FINALLY," Sweeney said, attempting to stretch his leg out. It ended up cramping, as his muscles were unused to the movement. "OW! MOTHERFUCKER!" He yelled, rubbing his calf.

"Take it easy," Dr. Schnabel said. "You haven't used that leg in over two months. You need to take it slow. Ashley will help you around for a little bit to get acclimated."

"Ashley's always helping me around," Sweeney grumbled.

"That's her job!" Schnabel replied cheerfully, hoping to shut Sweeney up.

Sweeney mumbled something under his breath, but Dr. Schnabel didn't hear it. He figured it probably wasn't something he wanted to hear, anyway.

"Well, we're done for now. Ashley will be up within the hour."

"Wonderful."

Schnabel just shook his head as he walked out of the room.

00

That evening, Anthony and Johanna came over for dinner. Ashley helped Sweeney down the stairs so he could sit with everyone. He was surprised at how big Anthony had gotten.

"You sure there's only two of them in there?" Sweeney asked, smirking at his friend.

"Hello to you too, Mr. Todd, and yes there's only two in there." Anthony briefly considered adding in a comment about how Sweeney shouldn't be really talking either – sitting on his ass for weeks on end hadn't done much for his figure, but he kept his mouth shut, not wanting to start an argument.

Edward could sense the hostility coming from Sweeney, and tried to change the subject.

"How are your wedding plans coming?" He asked Johanna.

"They're coming along. We hope to be married within the next month or so!" She said, beaming as she thought of her wedding. "You know, before the twins come along."

"That's nice," Edward replied.

"Hey, guys, guess what?" Mort said, interrupting the conversation.

Everyone turned their attention to Mort.

"JOHNNY DEPP IS FOLLOWING ME ON TWITTER!"

There were several groans and sighs from everyone at the table.

"We know, Mort," Sam said. "You've told everyone."

"It's just awesome, is all."

"I can understand that," Anthony said. "A few months back, Jamie Campbell Bower added me on there, he's still following me."

"Wow! Really?! Have you ever spoken to him?"

"He's replied to a few of my tweets. What's your name on there, any way? I'll add you," Anthony said, pulling his Android out.

"MortR".

"Very creative," Anthony said jokingly. "Okay, added you."

"Cool! See, I have a friend," Mort said, sticking his tongue out at Sam.

Sam just rolled his eyes.

"So, what have you guys got going on for later tonight?" Schnabel asked, turning to Anthony.

"Oh, not much. We'll walk back to our apartment, enjoy the nice evening I suppose."

"It's a full moon tonight," Sweeney said.

"Yes… how romantic," Johanna said, smiling again.

Anthony smiled, and took hold of her hand.

The dinner was finished quietly, and Anthony promised to come back soon to visit Sweeney. The couple was out the door by seven, just as the sun was beginning to set.

The pair had made it about halfway towards their apartment, when Anthony heard footsteps coming up on the quiet street. He turned around, trying to figure out who was near them, but he didn't see anyone.

"Did you hear that?" He asked Johanna, who also looked around, to no avail.

"I hear something, but I can't see who it was."

"Odd. Let's just hurry along then," Anthony said, taking Johanna's hand as they quickened their pace.

They were only another ten feet away when out of nowhere, two people came up from behind. One grabbed Johanna, pulling her away, while the other began to attack Anthony with what looked like a crowbar.

"STOP!" Johanna screamed, trying her best to get away from the man that was holding her in place. "LET ME GO! STOP HITTING HIM!" She continued to try to fight, but the man – Beadle Bamford?! – was too strong. He put a hand over her mouth to silence her.

Meanwhile, the other man had Anthony on the ground, and was kicking him repeatedly. Johanna recognized his voice the moment he spoke.

"I heard that you're with child," Turpin said, kicking Anthony again. "I am not going to allow you to have that baby and soil my reputation," Another kick.

Anthony was gasping for air, having had the wind knocked out of him. He could feel blood pouring from various cuts on his face, where Turpin had hit him, and his ribs hurt tremendously, where Turpin had been kicking him.

"If I so much as hear anyone mention that you've kept this child, than you will be in for much worse than a beating," The judge hissed, kicking Anthony one last time for good measure.

The judge turned to Beadle. "Let her go. We're done here."

Beadle nodded, and let go of Johanna. She immediately raced over to Anthony, wrapping her arms around him and checking him to see how severely he was injured.

"I'm fine," Anthony said, trying to sit up. He didn't want to alarm Johanna. He felt that, though injured, he could probably walk home.

"We need to get you to a hospital," Johanna said. "Make sure you're okay."

"No, no. I'm fine. Let's just… Just help me up, and let's go home. I'll rest for a while."

Johanna sighed. "I really think you need a doctor."

"I'm _fine_, Johanna," Anthony snapped. "Please, let's just go home."

Johanna shook her head, but helped Anthony up. The two walked home in silence.


	40. Chapter 40

******A/N: Phish Tacko beta'd this. Go check out her page, she's an awesome author!**

**Chapter 40**

It'd been four days since Turpin had beaten Anthony, and the young man didn't seem to be doing very well. He was in so much pain that he could hardly move, but he consistently put it off to being bruised from the fight. Johanna, of course, was there with him the whole time, taking care of him as best she could.

Anthony was finally convinced to see a doctor when he stood up to go to the bathroom. He instantly had sensed that something was wrong. There was a sharp pain in his stomach, unlike anything he'd ever felt before. He paled, and immediately collapsed on the floor, writhing in pain. Johanna found him a minute later, having heard the loud 'thud' that he'd made and the screaming grunts that followed, and had called 9-11.

00

Once at the ER, the doctors took one look at Anthony and immediately rushed him into surgery. He'd been slipping in and out of consciousness, and the last time Johanna had seen him, he'd been conscious and in a lot of pain.

The doctors theorized that he was bleeding internally, and they had to both stop the bleeding, and try to save the babies. They were prepping him for surgery when they noticed the blood between his legs. Anthony himself noticed it, and started hyperventilating.

"What the fuck is happening?" He asked, looking himself over. Then he felt like something had torn inside him. He let out a scream and bolted upright.

"Ow," He groaned, clutching his stomach. "It fucking hurts!"

The lead surgeon eased Anthony onto his back and began to examine him.

"He's fully dilated... Anthony, you're in labor. You appear to have been in labor for the past few hours."

"What?! No! I'm not even six months pregnant!" He protested, still breathing heavily. "They're not fully developed yet!"

"The trauma must've done it... We have no choice, you have to deliver. Nurse, get the incubators ready. Anthony, you need to start pushing."

"How?! I didn't learn any of this! Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

"Just... just push," The doctor said.

Anthony closed his eyes and began trying to do as the doctor said, but all that seemed to come out was more and more blood.

"Again. Hey, I need a transfusion line over here," The doctor said to another surgeon. He then turned back to Anthony, who was panting and extremely pale from blood loss. "You need to push again."

Anthony pushed, and suddenly, he felt something – the first baby – coming. It hurt tremendously and he screamed. He felt like the baby was twisting around inside of him. Then, it seemed to be over. Anthony could feel the baby being taken away from him.

And then there was more blood, and much more pain.

"The other one's coming," The surgeon said. "You need to push again."

By now, Anthony was crying from all of the pain. "IT FUCKING HURTS!"

"PUSH!" The doctor yelled.

Anthony pushed as hard as he could and let out a blood-curdling scream. He could feel the second baby's head coming. It hurt even worse than the first one. He felt like he was being torn in half.

"One more," The doctor said. "One or two more and you'll be done."

Anthony pushed again. And again. And one more time, and the baby was out.

He was too tired, too drained to notice that there wasn't any crying, and it was only a few minutes later that he once again lost consciousness.

00

Johanna paced in the waiting room nervously for what felt like hours, waiting to hear what had happened. She was about to go into the OR herself to get an update when a doctor, who was absolutely covered in blood, stepped out. He found Johanna, and removed his mask.

"I need to speak with you," was all he said.

"O-okay. How's Anthony?! Is he alright?!" She hoped that everything was all right, but judging from the screaming she'd heart, she could tell that something had gone wrong.

"Let's speak privately," The doctor replied, leading Johanna to a private room. He closed the door behind them.

"Anthony had internal bleeding. The bleeding, and overall trauma to his body made him go into labor prematurely. He started delivering on the operating table... twins. We were able to help him deliver the babies, and we then rushed him into surgery to repair his internal damage. He almost crashed a few times, but he's stable now. We got everything sewn up and cauterized."

Johanna put a hand to her mouth, in shock.

"...And the babies?" She finally asked, looking at the doctor with wide eyes.

"I'm very sorry, miss, but they didn't make it. There was just too much trauma, and they were too premature. They were both stillborn. It was twin boys."

"Oh, God," Johanna said, tears filling her eyes. "They're both gone?"

The doctor nodded sadly. "I'm very sorry. There was nothing we could do for them. Anthony himself is very lucky to be alive, he was probably bleeding internally for days."

Johanna felt dizzy, like she might faint. It was too much at once.

"Will he recover...?" She whispered, wiping the tears away.

"In time. He's still asleep. We were going to wait a few days to tell him about the babies... the extra stress might not be good for him while he's trying to recover."

Johanna nodded. "You're right." Suddenly, she felt her legs get weak. "I… I need to sit down."

The doctor led her over to a chair. "Again, I'm sorry," He said, resting a hand on her shoulder.

Johanna sighed, not bothering to fight more tears from coming.

Once she had calmed down enough to speak clearly, Johanna made her first and only phone call, to none other than her father.

Sweeney picked up after two rings.

"Hello?" He asked, closing his laptop so he could concentrate on the phone call.

"Dad…" Johanna started sobbing again, before she could even get another word out.

"Johanna? What's wrong?!" Sweeney asked, alarmed.

"The judge… he… He attacked Anthony… beat him with a crow bar… and Anthony just went into labor… He was bleeding internally… and the babies…" She trailed off, too distraught to continue.

"Are they okay? Is Anthony okay?"

Johanna sniffed. "They're dead. Anthony's sleeping… they had to do emergency surgery."

"Oh my God," Sweeney said, stunned. "What hospital are you at? I'll get Ashley to take me right over."

"No, no, you don't have to come. He's sleeping. He won't know you're here."

"I want to come be with you, dear, and make sure you're okay."

"Okay…"

"What hospital?"

"Clara Maass Hospital."

"I'll see you soon," Sweeney said, hanging up.

Ashley agreed to drive Sweeney to the hospital. They got there in record time, Ashley flooring the car since it was an emergency.

Sweeney arrived to find Johanna sitting in the waiting room, still crying silently.

"Hi, baby," Sweeney said, slowly walking towards his daughter. It was still hard for him to get around, he wasn't used to moving much. Once he was close enough, he pulled Johanna in a hug. "I'm so sorry," He whispered, resting his chin on top of her head.

The two stood there for a while, just holding each other, until a nurse came out of Anthony's room.

"Miss Barker, you can go and see Anthony now. He's starting to wake up."

Johanna nodded, and walked into the room, Sweeney following her. Anthony was laying on the bed, hooked up to numerous IVs and machines. He had an oxygen cannula under his nose, and his eyes seemed swollen.

Johanna went right to his bedside, gently taking Anthony's hand. "Oh, sweetheart… I'm so glad you're okay."

Anthony nodded slightly, then opened his mouth to try to speak. His voice was hoarse at first, from the air being forced down his throat, but he managed to get some words out.

"I had the babies."

"I heard. The doctors told us. Don't worry about that now, just rest," Johanna said.

Anthony then noticed Sweeney standing in the room.

"Mr. Todd," He said, weakly acknowledging his friend. "Thanks for coming."

"Of course. How are you feeling?"

"Like I was hit by an eighteen wheeler."

"I'm sorry. I can go call the doctor to get you some medication to help the pain," Sweeney offered.

"Yes, please, Mr. Todd."

Sweeney nodded and began to hobble back out of the room, in search of a doctor.

While he was gone, Johanna stayed next to Anthony.

"Where are the babies?" Anthony asked.

"Don't worry about that now," She said again. "You need to recover."

Anthony nodded and yawned. Just then, Sweeney came back into the room, doctor in tow.

"Hey, Anthony. I'm going to give you some medication to make you sleep, okay?"

"Great…"

The doctor inserted a needlefull of medication into his IV line, and Anthony was out almost instantly.

Anthony was in the hospital for three days after his surgery. By the second day, he was getting antsy, even though he was in pain.

"Can I see the babies, now?" He asked Johanna once again.

"You need to rest," Johanna answered, wondering when exactly she should tell Anthony the truth.

"Well, I was thinking of names for them. It's two boys, right? Maybe Benjamin and… Would you be opposed to naming one after me, too? Benjamin and Anthony… Anthony was my father's name, too."

Johanna felt like she was going to cry. "Those… those are very nice names."

"Hopefully I'll get to see them soon. I can't wait to hold them," Anthony said, a smile crossing his face for the first time in days.

Johanna sighed. This was going to be extremely hard to do.

00

When Johanna decided to tell Anthony the news, she asked Sweeney to come back to the hospital to be at his side. It would surely be a very hard thing for Anthony to handle.

Anthony could tell that something was wrong by the look on Johanna's face, and the fact that his best friend had randomly come to visit, and was also looking sad.

"We have something to tell you," Johanna began once Sweeney was settled in. She took Anthony's hand before continuing to speak. "There's no real easy way to say this. The babies… they were stillborn."

Anthony's eyes widened. "You mean… they're gone?!"

Johanna nodded. "Yes. We were going to bury them after you were released from the hospital…"

"What do you mean?! How can they be dead?! This has to be some sick joke!" He looked at Johanna, eyes pleading for her to confirm that it all wasn't true.

"I'm sorry," was all she said.

The shock of it was too much for Anthony, and his hands began to shake. Sweeney took hold of his other hand, trying to calm him down.

"Get the fuck off of me!" He hissed at his friend. "Don't you dare touch me! I've been here for days thinking my sons were alive and I've just found out that they're dead – none of you had the decency to tell me earlier!"

"We didn't want to hinder your recovery with the stress of it," Johanna said, softly.

Then, out of nowhere, something else seemed to come to Anthony's mind.

"It's my fault, isn't it?" It was more of a statement than a question. "They died because I didn't go to the doctor."

Johanna took a deep breath. "The doctor said that they'd been gone for at least a day prior… Unless you had gone to the ER immediately after the incident, there was not much you could've done."

"But there was still _something_ I could've done, I could've listened to you when you said to go… and now my sons are dead."

The cold look on Anthony's face was eerie, and both Johanna and Sweeney wondered what was going through his mind.

"The past is the past, what's done is done," Sweeney said, looking Anthony straight in the eyes. "It can't be fixed. Don't let it destroy you."

"I fucking carried those babies for days thinking they were alive, while their corpses sat rotting inside me."

Sweeney turned his gaze away, and said nothing. What could one really say to that?

There was a few minutes of silence until Anthony spoke up.

"I want you both to leave, now. I need to be alone."

Sweeney nodded. "Alright."

Johanna looked at her love sadly. "Okay. I'll come see you later. I love you, Anthony."

Anthony merely looked at her, watching as she and Sweeney left the room.

00

When Sweeney arrived back at the shelter, half the population was waiting for him in the common room.

"How'd it go?" Mort asked, maneuvering Anakin so that he was in a more comfortable position.

"He didn't take it well," Sweeney replied, the sadness obvious in his eyes. "He asked to be alone."

"That's understandable," Edward said. "He needs to think."

"I just hope he's okay."

"Maybe when he's out of the hospital you can invite him over," Edward suggested.

"I will." Sweeney sighed. "I'm tired. I'm going to go upstairs. I'll see you later," He sighed again and Ashley immediately came to his side to help him back to his room.

Anthony ended up coming by early the next morning. He'd walked to the shelter, despite being barely recovered. He just needed to clear his head.

He walked into the common room to an interesting sight. Tarrant and Edward were there, and Edward was lying on the sofa, breathing heavily and groaning. Tarrant seemed to be poking at him, trying to figure out what was wrong. To Anthony, it was obvious.

"Uh, I think he's having contractions," He said, addressing Tarrant. "You should go get the doctor."

"Hmm," Tarrant said, rubbing his chin. "That makes sense. He's been writhing like that for an hour now!"

"GO. GET. THE. DOCTOR." Anthony said, getting annoyed. He was starting to wonder if this Hatter guy had something wrong with him. Realistically, he probably hadn't seen anyone go into labor before, but even so, he should've realized something was off.

Tarrant wandered off to go find the doctor, so Anthony waited with Edward, not wanting to leave the man alone.

"Are you okay?" He asked, sitting next to Edward. He didn't want this man to be alone the way he'd been when he had delivered.

Edward nodded his head, but cringed. "I… I think… so," he said, through gritted teeth.

"You'll be alright, it'll hurt a bit but the doctor will help you, I'm sure. Take a deep breath, try to relax yourself… tensing up will only make it worse."

Edward did as Anthony had instructed, and took a few deep breaths.

Soon enough Dr. Schnabel arrived.

"Hi, Anthony," He greeted the young man. "I'm so sorry to hear about what happened."

The expression on Anthony's face instantly went blank, and he looked at the doctor with a cold gaze. "It is what it is."

Schnabel nodded. "Well, I'll take over from here. Mr. Todd's upstairs, if that's who you were coming to see."

"Thanks. Good luck, Edward," Anthony said, his expression softening a little. "I'll come see you later."

"Thanks," Edward gasped.

As Anthony walked up the stairs, Dr. Schnabel began to examine Edward. He was about week before his due date, but twins came early some times, so it didn't surprise the doctor that Edward would be going into labor.

"Alright, Edward, let's get you to one of the delivery rooms," He said. "Tarrant, give me a hand here?"

Tarrant came over and helped Schnabel help Edward up. They led him to the first delivery room available.

"Okay, Tarrant, can you go find Ashley for me? I need her to help me get Edward prepped."

"Sure!" Tarrant said, excited to be helping. Things had been dull at the shelter for the past few days, so this was an interesting change of pace.

Tarrant found the nurse in another room, giving Sam an exam. He was due in three weeks. Tarrant poked his head in in as Ashley was taking Sam's blood pressure.

"Edward's going into labor, and the doctor says he needs you," Tarrant said.

"Alright," Ashley said calmly. "Do you mind if we finish this exam later?" She asked Sam.

"No, go help Edward!" He said.

"Thanks." the nurse helped Sam off the exam table. "Go rest. I'll come get you tomorrow to finish this."

While Ashley was busy helping Edward, Anthony was up in Sweeney's room, curled up on the bed with his friend. He rested his head on Sweeney's shoulder with his hand on the barber's stomach, rubbing it slowly. Knowing the amount of mental pain that Anthony was in, Sweeney allowed this, even going so far as to wrap an arm around him.

"The burial is tomorrow…" Anthony said, his voice catching. He was finally starting to feel something more than anger at the thought of losing his children. "We're going to bury them next to each other… Johanna picked out two little coffins… They're white. She said… she said they'll be wrapped in white blankets."

Sweeney nodded. "I'll be there for it."

"I don't know if I can stand it, Mr. Todd, seeing them put into the ground. They should be inside me still, like your baby is inside of you," He said, rubbing Sweeney's stomach again. He could feel the baby within it kick, and the action brought tears to his eyes and sobs to his throat.

"It's going to be okay," Sweeney said. "I know it's hard to believe, but in time, you'll feel better. The wounds will never fully heal, but you'll be able to cope with it."

Anthony sniffled as he felt the baby kick again.

"They were so small… I saw them, you know. Last night. They were only three pounds each. Very tiny. They were beautiful, though. Do you know what their names are?"

"Johanna never told me, actually," Sweeney answered.

"Benjamin, after you, and Anthony, after me and my father."

"Those are nice names. Thank you for considering me."

"I guess we'll put the names on their tombstones. Anthony and Benjamin Hope. Johanna wants to write 'Beloved Sons', but I think it's wrong to do so… if I had truly loved them, the way I should have, I'd have gone to the hospital right after the attack." By then, tears were running down Anthony's cheeks in rivers and he was sobbing.

Sweeney sighed. "Anthony, you're only sixteen. You did what you thought was best. So it was the wrong decision. That does not mean that you didn't love your unborn children."

"They should've come before anything else."

Sweeney shook his head, unsure of what to say. He just continued holding Anthony and letting the boy rub his stomach.

00

Back downstairs, Schnabel was examining Edward.

"It looks like we're going to have to do a C-Section," He explained. "The placenta is blocking the birth canal."

Edward looked scared. "Is that going to hurt the babies at all?"

"Not if we can get them out through surgery. They're fully developed and this is a routine procedure for pregnant people in your condition."

"O-okay," Edward said, as another contraction hit him.

"We're going to numb you for the procedure, but you'll still be awake," The doctor continued to speak. "It will take me approximately an hour to perform the operation."

"If there's no other way," Edward said. "Do what needs to be done."

Dr. Schnabel nodded in agreement. "Ashley, will you please set Edward up with an epidural and some general anesthetic?"

"Sure."

The doctor then noticed that Tarrant was still in the room, standing in the corner and watching silently.

"Tarrant, thanks for all of your help, but I don't think Edward wants an audience for this," Schnabel said kindly.

"Oh, okay," Tarrant said. "I'll come visit you later and we can have Daffodil tea!" he said to Edward.

Edward forced a smile. "Great."

With that, Tarrant wandered out of the room, closing the door behind him.

00

Within minutes of getting the anesthetic and epidural, Edward was feeling nothing, and Dr. Schnabel was performing the C-Section. Being awake for the entire thing, Edward could sort of see Dr. Schnabel performing the surgery, and the sight of his own blood made him feel faint. Ashley could see how badly it was affecting Edward, so she spoke up.

"Close your eyes," She instructed. "It'll be better if you're not watching."

Edward swallowed and clenched his eyes shut, trying to think of other things besides being cut open the way he was. He could hear Schnabel and Ashley talking about what to do next, but he tried to tune them out. After what felt like forever, but was probably only half an hour or so, he heard the cry of the first baby.

"This one's the girl," Ashley announced, taking the baby to clean it off. Dr. Schnabel waited until she was done before continuing the procedure. He pulled the little boy out only a few moments later.

"And here's the boy," She said, taking that baby as well.

Edward couldn't help but crack an eye open to look. Ashley was holding the boy, cleaning him off.

When she was done, she spoke up. "Edward, we're going to close you up now. Keep your eyes closed. Your babies are just fine."

Edward closed his eyes and smiled. "Okay."

Thirty stitches later, and Edward was cleaned up and ready for recovery.

"Can I see them now?" He asked, as Ashley finished cleaning the stitched area on his stomach. The dark string that was used stuck out against his pale skin, and Ashley wondered if it would leave a scar. Edward's question snapped her back to reality.

"Sure. They're both perfectly healthy. Dr. Schnabel checked them." She turned and picked the two first baby – the girl – up out of the bassinet she was in.

"Here's the little girl," She said, holding her up so Edward could see.

Edward grinned. "She's so beautiful."

Ashley nodded, then put the girl down and picked up the boy. "Here's her brother." The boy squirmed a little, starting to wake up.

"Wow..." suddenly, Edward's expression turned sad. "I wish I could hold them."

Ashley frowned. "I'm sorry..."

Edward shook his head. "It's okay... I didn't expect to be able to do it. I just wish I could."

"Do you have any names picked out for them?" Ashley asked, changing the subject.

"Vivienne and Vincent. My father's name was Vincent."

"Those are gorgeous names, Edward. Do you... I mean, I don't mean to be rude, but do you have a legal last name? I don't think I ever learned it."

"Adson. That was my father's last name, so I guess it would be my last name. No one ever asked. It's okay. I didn't expect you to know it."

"Vivienne and Vincent Adson. Very nice names."

"Thank you," Edward said, yawning a second later.

"Get some rest. I'll take care of the babies for now, but you need to recover."

Edward nodded, lying back on his pillow. "Okay."


	41. Chapter 41

******A/N: Phish Tacko beta'd this. Go check out her page, she's an awesome author!**

**Chapter 41**

The funeral for Benjamin and Anthony was held the following morning. It turned out to be a very gray, dreary day, and everyone from the shelter, minus Edward, showed up. Anthony was dressed in black trousers and a black button-down shirt, and Johanna wore a black dress.

Sam had asked the pastor who had married him and Joon to do the eulogy, which he did. Everyone stood in mute witness to the ceremony, Sweeney resting a hand on his daughter's shoulder as she quietly sobbed.

Once the pastor was finished speaking, the two little white coffins covered with wildflowers, were lowered into the ground. "Nearer My God To Thee" began to play. It was at that point when Anthony, who'd remained fairly stoic the entire time, snapped.

"NO! NO NO NO NO! STOP IT!" He shrieked, running towards the pulleys that were lowering the coffins. "YOU CAN'T HAVE THEM!" He grabbed at the ropes, trying to pull the boxes back up. Tears were running down his face as he struggled, trying to bring his sons back.

Sweeney and Johanna quickly made their way over to Anthony, and began pulling him back away from the open grave. He fought them at first, but quickly gave in, too exhausted and upset to continue. He felt like he would collapse. Thankfully, Sweeney wrapped his arms around him, holding him up.

"Why don't we go wait in the car?" He whispered, keeping his arms locked around Anthony, who was sobbing hysterically at that point. "Shh… Come on. Clearly this is upsetting you too much."

The sailor nodded.

Sweeney looked towards Ashley, who followed them to the car. Sweeney opened the door to the back seat, letting Anthony in. Once the boy was sitting, Sweeney took a seat next to him. The two sat there is silence, aside from Anthony's sobbing, until it was time to go.

00

The rest of the day was quiet. Once they'd arrived back at the shelter, Anthony and Johanna had followed Sweeney up to his room, and had been spending the rest of the day there. Everyone else stayed downstairs, taking turns visiting Edward and the babies.

The twins were laying in bassinets that were next to Edward's bed, though Edward had yet to try to hold them or play with them. Ashley had been doing most of the work for that. When Sam and Joon came in, they immediately went to pick the babies up.

"Oh my gosh! They're so cute!" Joon squealed, cradling Vivienne. The little girl chirped and smiled as Joon held her, playing with her tiny fingers. Sam picked up Victor, who was slightly more calm.

"They both look like you!" Joon exclaimed. "Pale skin, dark hair... They're going to be gorgeous!"

Edward smiled and nodded, but it was then than Sam got a good look at his face. Something was off. Edward's cheeks were red, which was weird, because he was always extremely pale.

"Hey, are you okay?" Sam asked, looking at Edward closely. The young man had sweat on his brow and his eyes seemed kind of glazed over.

"I'm not really feeling well."

Joon frowned, and put her hand to his forehead. "You're burning up! Sam, take Vivienne, I need to go get the doctor!" She handed the baby to Sam before rushing out of the room.

Joon returned with both Dr. Schnabel and Ashley.

"Something's wrong with Edward," Joon explained. "He has a fever."

"Okay," The doctor said, walking towards his patient. "What's been bothering you?"

"I'm just tired... and cold. And my stomach hurts kinda bad," Edward said, softly.

The doctor lifted Edward's hospital gown to reveal the stitches he'd put in a day prior. They were red and angry looking, obviously infected. Closer examination revealed that there were little nicks and cuts next to the wound. "Were you touching these?"

"Only a little... they were getting itchy."

The doctor sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "I'm going to need to start you on a round of antibiotics. _Hopefully_ we won't need to open the stitches and clear out your stomach... I'm going to do an exam but I do not think the infection has spread that far."

Vivienne's cries interrupted the conversation, so Joon took her back from Sam and rocked her to quiet her.

"She's probably hungry, she hasn't eaten in a little while," Ashley said. "I'll get her some formula and some for Vincent too."

Sam noticed that Edward was looking at him and Joon. "Don't worry, Edward. We'll take care of the babies for today. You just rest and let the doctor help you."

00

Sam and Joon took the babies outside to the common room, where Mort and Tarrant were also sitting. Mort was holding Anakin, and Buster was sitting on Tarrant's lap.

"I see the cat likes you," Sam said to Tarrant, taking a seat next to Mort.

"For some reason, he does," Tarrant replied, petting the cat behind its ears.

"So... Teletubbies on again?" Sam addressed Mort.

"Anakin seems to like it."

"Whatever works."

As the first part of the show ended, there was a knock at the door. Tarrant perked up, thinking that perhaps it was Carlie or Alice or Mirana visiting him.

"It's open!" Mort called out, not wanting to get up.

The door swung open to reveal Ichabod and Jackson. Tarrant tried his best to hide his disappointment.

Both Mort and Sam did a double take when they looked at Ichabod. He was wearing a pair of gray sweatpants and a baggy maroon tee shirt. It was obvious that he'd gained a bit of weight, and his hair was looking rather greasy.

"What the _fuck_ happened to you?!" Mort asked, speaking what was on everyone's minds. "Are you expecting another one already?!" He poked Ichabod in the belly.

Ichabod scowled at him. "It's a side effect from the medication that Dr. Schnabel put me on. I'm here to see if he can switch it to another medication."

"Wow. Yeah, 'fat and greasy' isn't really a good look for you."

Sam rolled his eyes and jabbed Mort in the side. "Stop being a jerk."

Tears began to well up in Ichabod's eyes.

"Oh, great," Mort said under his breath.

And then the crying started.

"I DIDN'T CHOOSE THIS! Why are you making fun of me?! What have I done to you?! Okay, so there was that incident telling on you, but that was_months_ ago! Why can't you just be nice, Mort?!"

Sam stood up, holding Vincent close to him, and walked over to Ichabod. He rested a hand on Ichabod's shoulder. "Don't cry. Mort's just a jerk with no friends so he makes other people feel bad."

"I know I look differently but you don't have to point it out," Ichabod said, looking at Mort. "I feel bad enough as it is with Katrina saying things at home!"

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. Jeez. Relax."

"Katrina says things to you?" Joon asked, feeling kind of bad that Ichabod had to deal with all of this.

"She…" He sniffled, "She says she doesn't find me attractive like this. She wants a skinny husband. And she doesn't like my hair. But she doesn't want me to have more babies, either. It's only eighteen pounds, I didn't gain _that _much weight, and it's not like... not like I _wanted_ this!" He was breaking down again. "I can't win!"

"It's probably because you're shorter in stature," Mort said.

"What is?" Ichabod looked at him through tear filled eyes.

"Why it's more noticeable on you."

Sam rolled his eyes again. "You should go elsewhere for now, Mort. You're not helping things."

Mort grumbled something, but took Anakin and left the room, closing the door behind him.

"Don't listen to him," Joon said once Mort was gone. "He's just angry that he has nothing to do and no one to talk to. And don't listen to Katrina, either. You're still... You still have a lot of redeeming qualities," She forced a smile.

Ichabod nodded. "Thank you. Are those Edward's twins?" He asked, only now noticing that Joon and Sam were holding babies.

"Yes, this is Vivienne Adson, and that is Vincent. They look a lot like him, don't they?"

"They really do. How is he?" Ichabod seemed much calmer now.

"Dr. Schnabel says he has an infection from where he was stitched up. He had a Caesarean done. The doctor's in with him right now."

"I'll just wait out here, then?" Ichabod said, sitting down. He noticed that Tarrant was staring at him.

"You're the hatter, right?" Ichabod asked.

"Yes."

"Interesting." Ichabod wasn't really in the mood to make conversation right now. He was tired, and frustrated, and nauseated. Jackson squirmed a little when he sat down.

Ichabod sighed. "Calm down, son," He whispered, rubbing the baby's back.

Jackson instantly calmed.

"Wow, he's a good baby," Sam said.

"He's great. I'm very lucky."

"You really are. Poor Gilbert's son Tommy is driving him nuts," Sam replied.

"Really? That's terrible."

The group sat in silence for a while, Tarrant having changed the channel so that The Simpsons were on.

"Have you heard about Anthony?" Joon said, quietly, once the commercials came on.

"No?"

"He lost the babies. Judge Turpin beat him up, and they were still born."

Ichabod's jaw dropped. "Oh my lord. Is he okay? Is Johanna okay?"

"Johanna's taking it better than Anthony is. He almost jumped into the grave this morning at the funeral, trying to get his sons back," Joon said sadly.

"That's horrible. So sad. That poor boy," Ichabod answered, sincerely looking sad for the teenager. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"I can't think of anything. He's been spending a lot of time with Mr. Todd, I guess he's been helping Anthony along."

"Wow.. I'm just so sorry to hear that," Ichabod said, holding Jackson just a little bit closer to him.

Soon enough Ashley walked into the common room. She and Dr. Schnabel had just finished giving Edward his first round of antibiotics and a fever reducer.

"Oh, hey Ichabod," Ashley said, not giving him a second look. "How's it going? How's Jackson doing?" She came over and began playing with the baby's hand. "You're a good boy, aren't you?" She cooed in a baby-voice.

"He's fine. I'm... not so fine, as I'm sure you can see," Ichabod said, trying to keep calm.

"Dr. Schnabel just finished with Edward, if you want to go see him. He's in his office." Ashley turned her attention back to Jackson, who was looking up at her with his huge brown eyes. He had to be one of the cutest babies ever. "Do you want me to take him while you go talk to the doctor?"

"Please!" Ichabod replied. "That would be great!"

Ashley smiled and took the infant from his arms. "No problem."

Now free to go, Ichabod started heading over to Schnabel's office. He didn't even bother to knock when he got there, just walked inside. Dr. Schnabel was sitting at his desk, reviewing some paperwork. He looked up when he heard someone walk into the room.

"Hi...Ichabod," He said, trying not to stare. "Take a seat."

"I assume you can tell why I'm here?" Hhe constable asked, his tone bitter.

"Ah... looks like those birth control pills aren't working out for you too well."

"They're horrible! My hair is greasy no matter how many times I wash it, I've gained almost twenty pounds in _two and a half weeks_, I'm always nauseated, and I feel like I'm constantly going to cry!" He said, tears coming again. "..Like now."

Schnabel took a deep breath, and handed Ichabod a tissue. "I understand. There are many other medications that we could try, though. Don't get too upset over it."

"How can I not be upset?!"

"Ichabod, your hormones are very unbalanced. I understand that this is very tough for you. Stop taking the medication that I gave you, and we'll see what else might be better."

Before he could reply, Ichabod seemed to turn green. "I think I'm going to be sick," He whispered.

Schnabel reacted quickly, picking up his wastebasket and shoving it into Ichabod's hands. The constable spent the next several minutes on all fours, throwing up into the wastebasket and sobbing.

00

One floor above, Anthony was once again sitting on Sweeney's bed, head rested on his shoulder while rubbing the older man's stomach. For some odd reason, it comforted him. Johanna was sitting quietly in the corner, staring out the window, deep in thought.

"Maybe we should watch a movie, or find something on the internet?" Sweeney suggested. "Just something to get our minds off of everything."

"Go on Icanhascheezeburger," Johanna said, moving closer to the bed. "They usually have funny stuff."

Anthony moved so that Sweeney could get his laptop and open it up. The barber typed in the URL. An image of a kitten with a little hat that had something written about 'thug life' came up.

"Ha! That's cute," Sweeney said, smiling at the picture.

Anthony's eyes got big, and his lip began to quiver.

"What's wrong?" Sweeney asked, both concerned and confused.

"My sons would've had little hats like that!" Anthony said, tears starting to pour from his eyes.

"Oh, bugger…" Sweeney pulled Anthony into a hug again.

Johanna sighed. "Maybe talking about something else would help? What about the wedding? Do you still want to do that next month?"

Anthony sniffed, and wiped his nose on his hoodie sleeve. Sweeney reached over and got him a tissue.

"I'd like to," Anthony said, wiping his face. "If you'll still have me, of course."

"You know I will," Johanna said, kissing Anthony on the cheek. "I love you and I want to be with you forever."

"I love you too," Anthony replied, kissing her back. "Always."


	42. Chapter 42

******A/N: Phish Tacko beta'd this. Go check out her page, she's an awesome author!**

**Chapter 42**

The next morning it was time for Sam and Tarrant to get their exams. Ashley and Dr. Schnabel checked on Sweeney fairly frequently, so it wasn't necessary for him to take one that day.

Sam went first, since he was the furthest along.

"Everything looks normal," Dr. Schnabel said, noting everything on his chart. "You're right on track. You should be having the baby within the next two weeks."

"Great," Sam said, rubbing his lower back. "Carrying her around is killing me."

"You can try some ice and heat on and off for that," The doctor suggested.

"Thanks. I'll be okay."

"So, is Joon ready for you to come back home?" The doctor asked.

"She's ready. She even painted a nursery. I guess Edward probably told you, but he and his twins are going to move in with us. Joon set up a room for him."

"That's very kind of you."

Sam shrugged. "It's the right thing to do. We have the extra room, and Edward's a good guy. How is he, anyway?"

"He's still having a hard time. He's not responding well to the antibiotics and his fever hasn't gone down, so we're going to have to step up the treatment."

"Oh," Sam frowned. "That's not good."

"I'm sure he'll pull through. Edward's a strong boy."

"I'll go visit him today."

Schnabel nodded. "That would be nice."

Sam stood up. "I'll see you later, Dr. Schnabel."

Tarrant was next. He seemed to be full of nervous energy, tapping his leg on the ground as he sat on the exam table.

The doctor took his pulse and blood pressure, both of which were slightly high, probably due to Tarrant's general hyperactivity. Still, it wasn't bad enough to put him in any danger. Next, he took Tarrant's weight. The hatter kept moving around as Dr. Schnabel tried to get a number, and it took him close to two minutes to get a decent reading. "165," The doctor read. "You're right on track. You've gained twelve pounds since you've been here."

Tarrant shrugged, uninterested in this type of information.

"Right, ultrasound time, then," The doctor said. "Please go lie down on the table."

Tarrant tapped his fingers on the sides of the table while the doctor applied the ultrasound gel.

"Are you nervous?" The doctor asked. "You keep tapping your feet and fingers."

"I always have extra energy," Tarrant answered.

The doctor moved the wand around, settling in one spot. "The baby looks healthy. You're four months and one week along. Do you want to know if it's a boy or a girl?" Schnabel turned the monitor so that Tarrant could see it.

"Yes, please."

The doctor moved the wand around a little more. "Looks like a little girl."

Tarrant opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. He didn't know how to feel. On one hand, this was his baby that he was seeing. His daughter. At the same time, just seeing her reminded him of Stayne, and everything that had happened.

Schnabel watched as Tarrant's eyes turned from light green to brown to dark green as he went through various emotions.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

Tarrant didn't answer, just continued staring at the image.

"I think so," He finally whispered.

Dr. Schnabel looked him straight in the eyes. "You know, Tarrant, you are always welcome to talk to me if you ever need to."

"Okay..." Tarrant said, eyes still fixed on the screen. "Thanks..."

Schnabel nodded. "I'll let you have some time to look at that, okay?"

"Thank you."

As soon as the doctor left the room, Tarrant couldn't help but cry.

00

Across the hall, Ashley decided that it was time to check on Edward. He hadn't responded to the antibiotics, and both she and Dr. Schnabel were worried. She walked into the room to find Edward lying on the bed, covered in sweat, and shivering. His eyes were very dull, and he didn't seem to be focused on anything in particular.

"Edward!" Ashley said, rubbing his arm and trying to get his attention. He glanced up at her, but said nothing. There were dark bags around his eyes, and Ashley noticed that he'd thrown up a little on his hospital gown. There were also traces of vomit around his lips.

"Shit," Ashley muttered. "I'll be right back." She raced down the hall to find Dr. Schnabel, who was wiping the ultrasound gel off of Tarrant's stomach.

"Dr. Schnabel? I need you to come quickly, Edward's very sick."

"Alright, I'll be right there," He answered.

Ashley went back to Edward's room. Vivienne and Vincent were sleeping, so at least it was quiet.

"Edward," She said, rubbing his arm again. "The doctor is coming. Can you understand me?"

Edward nodded 'yes' softly.

Ashley wasn't quite sure that she believed him, though. "What's my name?"

"Snow..." Edward answered. "Snowflakes... it's so cold..." He began to shiver more profusely. "So cold..."

Ashley quickly reached for the thermometer, and stuck it in Edward's ear. It beeped a second later, and she gasped at the reading of 104.5.

Dr. Schnabel happened to walk in at that same moment.

"Leonard, Edward has a 104 degree fever!" Ashley exclaimed.

Schnabel moved to Edward's side, and pulled his hospital gown up. His wound looked even worse than before. Obviously the infection had gotten worse. Schnabel was trying to decide how to proceed with clearing it out when Edward spoke up.

"I don't feel good..." He whispered, turning even paler, if that were possible. Dr. Schnabel grabbed a small bowl, and helped Edward to sit up. He held the bowl under Edward's chin, watching as the young man spit up what little was left in his stomach.

When Edward was finished, he looked up at the doctor, looking like he was going to cry.

"Shh, shh, it's okay," Schnabel said, rubbing Edward's back gently. "Ashley, we're going to need to open his stitches and clean out the infection in his stomach."

"I'll prep the anesthetic," Ashley said, turning towards the medicine cabinets to get what she needed.

Edward began shivering again while she did this, his teeth chattering.

"Edward, we're going to have to make you sleep, okay? And we're going to open your stitches and take the infection out of your belly." Schnabel figured it was best to explain things in a very simple way, since Edward probably wasn't in a right enough state of mind to understand anything complex. "It's not going to hurt."

Edward just groaned in pain.

Ashley came back to his side with an IV and an oxygen cannula and handed it to the doctor.

"I'm going to set him up. Do you mind seeing if Sam or Mort is around to watch the twins? They shouldn't be in the room for this."

"Sure." Ashley walked out into the hallway. The first person she found was Mort.

"Mort!" She called.

Mort turned to look at her.

"Yes?"

"Can you watch Vivienne and Vincent for a little while? Edward's gotten worse and we need to operate on him."

"Oh, shit. Yeah, no problem," Mort answered, looking concerned. "Is he going to be okay?"

"Hopefully. Come with me to get them, we need to get started right away."

Mort nodded and followed Ashley, both of them taking one of the babies and bringing them to Mort's room.

"You know where the formula and diapers are," Ashley said, setting the babies down into the same crib that Anakin was in. "I'll come back when we're finished."

"Sure. Don't worry about it."

"Thanks, Mort," Ashley said sincerely. "It's appreciated."

00

When Ashley returned to Edward's room, the young man was already asleep.

"Go scrub up and we'll get started," Schnabel said, pulling gloves onto his hands.

It took over an hour, but the pair managed to clear everything out. The infection had spread very far under his skin, and they'd caught it just in time before it hit his intestines.

"We're going to need to keep him on strong antibiotics," Schnabel said, as he wiped down the area around the wound with alcohol. "Get me some Vancomycin."

Ashley did as she was told, bringing an IV of the solution over. She began hooking the needle up to Edward's arm.

"How long before he wakes up?" She asked, when she was finished.

"Another half hour or so. He'll need his rest. Stay here with him, won't you? Make sure he wakes up alright. Get him to take some fluids if you can. You know the drill. I'm going to go check on Sweeney and I'll be back in a little while."

"Sure."

Schnabel had just gotten to the door when he stopped and turned. "Just... keep him company. Poor boy doesn't really have much, it would be nice if someone was here with him for a bit."

"Of course."

Ashley took a seat next to Edward's bed, and took his arm, stroking it gently as he slept.

00

Edward had a long road of recovery ahead of him. He'd have to remain in bed for at least the next few days while his body recovered the strength it needed for him to function normally. As it was, he was too weak to even eat and digest normal food. Schnabel had him hooked up to an IV of liquid nutrients instead.

The other residents had taken turns coming in and watching the twins, and spending time with Edward, and he was very grateful for the company.

One morning, Mort came in, laptop under one arm and Anakin in the other hand.

"I have something that might cheer you up," Mort said, setting the laptop down on Edward's lap. "Open it."

Edward sat up, an effort that took most of his energy, and opened the netbook, revealing a picture of Jack and Angelica.

"Jack sent us another video. Click play."

Edward click the button, and watched as the video loaded.

"Hello hello," Jack greeted. Once again, he was holding Angela, who looked a little bigger now than she had in the last video. "We're in Johannesburg, South Africa right now, on the beach. Say hi, Angela!" Jack moved the infant's arm so it looked like she was waving.

Then Angelica spoke up. Edward noticed that she had white bandages over her nose. "_Hola_," She said, her voice sounding very nasally. "We hope you're doing well."

"Tell them how you broke your nose," Jack said, grinning at Angelica.

"Well, I saw a video about how Katilette, that's Shay Carl's wife, for those of you who don't know, did a Chinese Firedrill... let's just say I was driving the rental car, and there was a red light... One thing led to another, and then…" She trailed off.

"And...?" Jack said, egging her on to continue.

"I might've tripped over air on the way back into the car."

"It's okay, I love you even if you're clumsy," Jack said reassuringly.

Angelica merely stuck her tongue out at him.

"Anyway," She continued. "We sailed here over a few weeks ago. It's pretty nice here and everything is cheap. We saw in Señor Todd's email that Edward had his twins – _Felicidades! _We look forward to meeting the babies at Anthony's wedding."

"We miss you all," Jack said. "We have to go now. Battery's running low. See you in a few weeks!" Jack held up Angela's arm again, to make it look like she was waving goodbye, and the video cut out.

"That's nice," Edward said, smiling. "I'm glad to hear from them."

Mort smiled at him and took the laptop back. "Figured you'd like that. How are you feeling?"

"Sore... my stomach hurts, but the doctor said that's normal and that it will hurt for a few days."

"I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do to help you?"

"Not really. I guess if you could see if Viv or Vincent need a change, that would be great."

Mort wrinkled his nose in disgust. He hated changing even his own son, but he agreed to help Edward.

"Yeah, fine." Mort picked up Vivienne first, and sniffed her. "I think she's fine." He then picked up Vincent. "We have a winner..." he took the baby over to the changing table on the other side of the room, and carefully changed him. "Ugh," He sighed, "How does such a little infant make such a big smell?"

Edward heard him and laughed. "I don't think he can help it."

"It's just… it's almost like it's not human," Mort said, throwing it into the garbage. "What the hell are you feeding these kids?"

"Formula. Just like Anakin drinks."

"Maybe my kid is just not as stinky as yours are."

"Maybe," Edward said, rolling his eyes.

Mort put the baby down into the bassinet. "There you go."

"Thanks, Mort."

"No problem. You look tired," Mort said, noticing that Edward seemed to be forcing himself to stay awake.

"I am... the infection took a lot out of me... I can't even eat normal food."

"Go sleep. I'll watch the twins for you."

"Okay," Edward said, trying his best to crawl under the covers.

Mort pulled them up on Edward's chest, the same way that Wonka had tucked him in when he'd been sick. "Sweet dreams, Edward."

00

Johanna and Anthony were once again up in Sweeney's room that afternoon. Anthony was, of course, still sad, and Johanna and Sweeney were trying to cheer him up.

"You know, I was thinking," Sweeney said. "Maybe you should get a pet. A dog or a cat. Something that will show you love and affection. It might make you happy. I mean, Buster makes Mort happy, and he's a pretty miserable person overall."

Johanna considered this for a moment. "That actually may be a good idea! I'm sure we could find a dog or a cat at the pound, a lot of them need homes, and our apartment allows pets, so..."

"I don't know," Anthony said. "I don't know if I'd be any good at taking care of an animal. I couldn't take care of my own sons. I'd probably end up accidentally killing the thing within a week."

"I think you'd be good at it," Sweeney replied reassuringly. "Why don't you go down to the shelter, see the animals and just see if any of them stick out. It can't hurt."

Anthony shrugged. "Maybe."

"We should go," Johanna said. "We have nothing to do this afternoon anyway."

A couple hours later, Anthony and Johanna ended up at Foster's No-Kill Animal Shelter.

As soon as they walked in, several of the dogs started barking at them. The cats just stared. One of the shelter volunteers came up to greet them.

"Are you looking for any particular type of pet?" The young woman asked.

"We wanted to look at cats, I think," Johanna answered, looking at Anthony for confirmation.

"I prefer cats," He answered.

"We have twenty cats here right now. Some are adults, some are kittens. We encourage people to try to adopt the adult cats if they can, because it is so much harder for them to find homes."

Johanna nodded. "Alright, well, if we could just look around..."

"Sure. Call me if you see any kitties that you're interested in. My name is Arianna, by the way."

"Thanks."

The couple walked around for a while, looking at all the cats. There were a few different breeds, but most were tabby cats. As they neared the end of the row of cages, Anthony's eyes settled on a large orange cat.

"That one's kind of cute," He said, coming closer to the cage. The cat stood up and looked at him, as if appraising him in the same way that Anthony was looking over him. Anthony held out his hand, and the cat sniffed his fingers through the bars of the cage.

"I like him," He said as the cat attempted to lick his fingers. "He seems friendly. Arianna?"

Arianna came over. "Yes?"

"That orange cat, can we see him?"

"It's a girl, actually," She said, opening the cage.

"Cool."

She handed the cat to Anthony, and the cat immediately began to purr.

"She's got all of her shots and she was fixed. Someone abandoned her in the snow last winter, and she's been here since. I suspect she was someone's pet before they got rid of her. She's very friendly with people."

The cat started to purr louder as Anthony continued to hold her. He looked at Johanna, who nodded.

"I think we'll take her home, then," He said.

Arianna smiled. "Great! I'll go get the paperwork ready."

00

"I think we should call her Marmalade," Anthony suggested as he carried the orange cat in her carrier. They were going to take her to the shelter to show her to everyone. "Like Orange Marmalade, since she's orange."

"That's cute," Johanna answered. "I like that name."

The cat meowed loudly, possibly in agreement.

"I guess she likes it too. Or hates it. I can't really tell what that meow meant."

"She'd probably be hissing if she was angry."

Anthony nodded. "Good point."

They got to the shelter a few moments later, and opened the door to find Mort, Sam, and Tarrant in the common room. Buster was sitting on Mort's left leg, with Anakin on the right. The gray tabby immediately perked up when he saw Marmalade.

Anthony set the crate down, and Buster came right over, sniffing and staring at the orange cat inside. For her part, Marmalade just stared at Buster, as if saying, 'I dare you to mess with me'.

"Ohh, you got a kitty!" Mort said excitedly. He stood up and walked over towards the crate as well. "Pretty cat, too. Where'd you get it?"

"We got her at the pound," Johanna answered. "She took a liking to Anthony very quickly."

"Looks like Buster likes her too," Mort said, watching as Buster licked the bars on the cage. "She's fixed, right?"

"Uh. Yeah," Anthony answered. "Buster's fixed too, isn't he?"

Mort averted his gaze. "Um... Well, things kinda got busy here, and..."

"That cat humps everything when it's in heat!" came a voice from the couch – Sam's. "It's disgusting."

"Yeah, I need to take him to get fixed," Mort concluded.

"Sooner rather than later!" Sam called.

Mort shrugged.

"They do it for like seventy dollars at the animal shelter," Anthony said.

"Yeah. I know. I'll go. Like I said, it's just been busy."

"Right. Well, I'm going to assume that Mr. Todd's upstairs?" Anthony asked, changing the subject.

"As always," Mort answered.

Anthony picked up Marmalade's crate and was about to take it upstairs when Johanna stopped him. "Maybe we should go say hi to Edward first? See how he's doing?"

"Good idea."

The couple walked into Edward's room to see Ashley changing one of the twins, and Edward sitting in bed, looking rather bored. The television was on, with some reality tv show on the screen, but Edward seemed uninterested. However, when he heard Anthony and Johanna come in, he looked up and smiled.

"Hey, guys," He said softly, as usual.

"Hey Edward," Both greeted at once, then looked at Ashley and said hi to her as well.

"How are you feeling?" Anthony asked, putting Marmalade's carrier down.

"Stomach still hurts a little but it's getting better. Ashley says I can eat regular food tomorrow," Edward replied. He seemed happy at the fact that he could soon eat normally, and Anthony decided that Edward really probably did have nothing to do. Most likely, Ashley or someone else was doing most of the work with the twins, which left Edward just laying in bed for the most part.

"How are the babies?" Johanna asked.

"Good. They're healthy. Ashley's been taking care of them since I really can't..." Edward trailed off, suddenly looking rather sad.

"Hey, you'll be a great dad," Johanna said, smiling. "Even if you can't hold them, you'll teach them a lot, like how to be compassionate and loving and accepting of people."

"Not to mention they'll probably be creative like you," Anthony added.

"Thanks," Edward said, looking a bit happier. "I hope so."

"Sam's due soon... and you'll be moving in with him and Joon, right?"

"Yes, he has an extra room I can stay in."

"Are you happy about that?" Anthony asked.

"It'll be nice. Sam is a good person and he accepts me as I am, and Joon is very nice as well. Don't tell anyone but she mentioned that they might help me go to art school! Since I can sculpt and all, she said that they have some money put away and can take out a loan."

"That's wonderful!" Anthony said. "Very, very nice of them."

"I know... I'm so lucky," Edward said, smiling contentedly. "A few months ago, I would've thought it would be so much worse, but now, the future looks good."

"Well, when you're a world famous sculptor, you'd better not forget us!" Johanna said, jokingly.

Edward took the statement seriously. "I'd never forget anyone here, ever."

"I know, Edward, I was only joking. We're glad that you're doing well. We have to go, though. We want to go show dad Marmalade."

"Marmalade?" Edward asked, only now noticing that there was a cat in a crate on the floor. "Is that your pet?"

"Yep. Dad suggested that we get Anthony a pet, so we did."

"Neat. I'll give her a haircut one day if you want."

"Um. Sure," Johanna replied. "Well we have to go now. See you soon, Edward!"

Edward nodded as they left, then turned his attention back to the television.

00

Anthony and Johanna trudged up the stairs to Sweeney's room, and opened the door to find him once again on his laptop, listening to rap.

"Hey, guys," Sweeney said, turning the music off. "How goes it?

"We got a cat," Anthony announced, showing Sweeney the carrier case. "Her name is Marmalade."

"Cool. Close the door and let her out," The barber replied.

Johanna went to close the door and Anthony opened the cage. Marmalade looked around the room before cautiously stepping out. Immediately, she rubbed up on Anthony's legs, before looking up at Sweeney on the bed. The two studied each other for a moment, and Marmalade chirped and jumped up. She sniffed Sweeney's hand and then plopped herself in his lap, purring loudly.

"Wow... she really likes you," Anthony said, surprised at how friendly Marmalade was being.

Sweeney scratched Marmalade behind her ears. "Cats tend to like me. Mort's cat likes me more than he likes Mort."

"Really?"

"Yeah, he sleeps up here with me most nights. If Mort's sick or upset the cat usually stays with him, but a lot of times he's with me too."

"Weird. Maybe they like your personality," Johanna suggested.

"Perhaps," Sweeney answered, petting Marmalade some more. "I'm glad you found a pet that you like."

"Thanks. We just wanted to show you. We're going to be leaving soon. Is there anything you need?" Johanna asked.

Sweeney thought for a moment, "Actually, if you're not too busy, there is one thing I'd like."

"What's that?"

"I've been craving Taco Bell for days now. Think you could get me some?"

Johanna frowned. "Dad, you're not supposed to be eating that stuff, not with your blood pressure and all."

Sweeney pouted. "Oh, come on! The baby wants it, too," He said, rubbing his large stomach.

Johanna sighed. "I'll ask the doctor and if he says it's okay than I'll bring you some tacos. Fair?"

Sweeney rolled his eyes and grinned. "Yeah, okay, if you _must_."

"I'll go ask him. Watch the cat," She said, making her way to the door.

It seemed like forever before she came back up to the room.

"Dr. Schnabel says you can have Taco Bell this one time," She said, closing the door behind her. "What do you want?"

"This one time, eh?" Sweeney asked, "Well, then I'd like one of those Volcano boxes. And a quesadilla, and a Cheesy Gordita Crunch. And..." He thought for a second. "One of those Cheesy Fiesta Potato bowls."

"Dad, that's like two days' worth of food."

"If I'm only getting Taco Bell once than I'm going to make it good. Can you get me a large HI-C Fruit Punch, too?"

Johanna shook her head and smiled a little. "I'm not even going to argue with you. Anthony, do you want anything?"

"I'll take two quesadillas, I guess," Anthony said.

"Fine. I'll be back soon," Johanna said, heading out.

00

Three hours later, Anthony and Johanna were sitting on the floor, playing with Marmalade, while Sweeney was on his bed, in a food coma. Any questions or comments they made were generally answered with one word, since he was not really wanting to have to talk or do much more than lie down and stare at the ceiling.

"You doing okay over there?" Johanna asked, after her dad had been quiet for a while.

"I'm fine," He replied. "Can't believe I got through that entire box of tacos."

"Yeah, that was pretty impressive," Johanna said, smirking. "Was it worth it?"

"Hell yes, it was," Sweeney answered. "Those tacos were awesome! I'll probably be feeling it tomorrow, though."

Johanna shrugged. "Well, glad you're happy at least for now."

Johanna and Anthony didn't leave until later in the evening. They felt somewhat safer walking around, since Anthony had taken to perpetually carrying his pepper spray with him.

They were walking down the stairs, when Anthony heard a whining sound coming from down the hallway.

"What was that?" He asked, setting Marmalade's cage down once he was on the first floor.

There was another sound before Johanna could answer.

"It sounds like someone's in pain," She said. "Let's go check down the hall."

The pair followed the sound down the hall, eventually coming to the door of the last room.

"Hello?" Johanna called out, pushing the door open.

"I need help," came a voice. "I think my water broke."

Anthony and Johanna came in to see Sam, lying on his bed and clutching his stomach, writhing in pain.

"Oh, shit. Okay, don't worry," Anthony said, trying to keep a level head. "Johanna, go get the doctor, I'll stay with Sam."

Johanna nodded, and made her way out, while Anthony moved closer to Sam. He took Sam's hand. "Don't worry, it'll be okay."

"It hurts… I think I'm having contractions…" Sam said, through gritted teeth.

Anthony said nothing, just held on tighter to Sam's hand. Johanna arrived soon after, Dr. Schnabel and Ashley following behind her.

"Hey, Sam," The doctor said, getting closer to his young patient. "How long have you been having contractions for?"

"It started about twenty minutes ago… woke me up," Sam said. "Can you call Joon?"

"Sure. We're going to get you to a delivery room too. Do you think you can walk?"

Sam took a deep breath. "I…I think so."

"Okay. Anthony, do you mind helping me with Sam?"

"No problem," Anthony said, quickly going to Sam's other side.

"I'll go call Joon," Johanna volunteered. "I'll tell her to come immediately."

"Thanks," Sam said, cringing as another contraction hit.

Together, Schnabel and Anthony managed to get Sam to the closest delivery room.

"I need to get you into a hospital gown," Ashley told Sam as she helped him sit on the bed. "Can you undress yourself?"

"Yes…" The thought of Ashley having to see him nude, even for a brief moment, was too much for Sam. When she handed him the hospital gown, he was determined to get into it on his own, no matter how much pain he was in.

It took a few minutes, but he managed to do it. Right in time, too, because Joon got to the shelter just as he'd gotten dressed.

Ashley knocked on the door before entering. "Sam? Did you get changed? Joon's here."

"Hi Sam!" Joon called out.

"You can come in," Sam said, out of breath from moving around the way he had been. It wasn't easy to tie a hospital gown on when you were as big as a small car. At least, that's how big Sam felt in his mind.

Joon and Ashley walked in. Joon was still wearing her pajamas. Apparently the phone call from Johanna had woken her up, and she'd raced right over.

"Hey, baby," She said, coming closer to her husband. She took his hand. "How are you?"

"In pain," Sam answered honestly. "I feel like I'm being ripped in half."

Joon frowned, and turned to Ashley. "Can't you give him something?"

"We were actually about to give him an epidural. We were just waiting for him to get dressed," Ashley replied. "I have everything set up for it. Joon, can you help Sam turn over for me?"

Joon nodded, and looked at her husband. "You heard the lady. On your side."

Dr. Schnabel came into the room shortly after. "Sam, you might want to take Joon's hand. This is going to pinch."

Sam swallowed, and grabbed onto his wife's hand, holding it tightly as the doctor injected him.

"There we go," Schnabel said, putting a band-aid over the wound. "I need to do a quick exam. Do you want Joon to stay in the room?"

Sam looked at Joon. "If she wants to stay. Do you want to stay?"

"Of course. I want to be with you through all of this," She replied, leaning forward and kissing him on the forehead.

"Alright," The doctor said, "I need to you put your feet up here, just like we did at your last exam." He pointed to the stirrups.

Sam sighed, but moved his legs, feeling rather embarrassed. Joon simply smiled at him and held his hand a little tighter. It didn't help much, though. Once he saw the doctor begin the exam, tears began to fill Sam's eyes and he blushed.

"What's wrong, love?" Joon asked, concerned.

"It's just humiliating," Sam whispered.

Joon knew that Sam was often bashful and nervous about being seen by others. It'd been a problem even though they'd been married for months, now, but Joon accepted it.

"You've done this before, sweetie," She said. "You'll be fine. He's almost done."

Sam nodded, but tears kept pouring from his eyes.

Dr. Schnabel stood up a minute later. "You're at 6 cm. This is going to be a pretty fast delivery. I'm guessing within the next 3 hours or so, you'll have the baby. How are you feeling, physically?"

"It still kinda hurts… I thought the epidural was supposed to make the pain stop?"

"It doesn't always work a hundred percent on everyone, unfortunately. If it gets to be too much we'll give you something else to help."

Sam closed his eyes as yet another contraction hit, groaning loudly.

Joon reached over and smoothed his hair back. "It'll be okay, I promise," She said.

Sam reached for her hand again, taking comfort in just being able to touch her.

"It hurts…" He moaned. "It feels like the baby is smushing my organs!"

"I'm so sorry, love," Joon said. "It'll be over soon and then we'll have a new baby to love and care for."

Sam took a deep breath. "Yeah… hopefully it'll be sooner than later…"

Two hours later, Sam was at 10cm but still hadn't delivered. Contraction after contraction wracked his body, causing him to scream at some points. It was loud enough to wake up Mort and Tarrant, who came rushing over to see who was being murdered.

Ashley explained that Sam was in the process of going through labor, and that the pain was rather intense.

"Are you sure you're not killing him slowly by giving him a million paper cuts?" Mort asked. "'Cause he's pretty damn loud."

"He's in a lot of pain. The epidural didn't work as well on him."

Sam screamed again, this time causing Tarrant to grimace. "Is… is it going to be that way for me too?" He whispered, eyes wide.

"Well… The epidural works for most people," Ashley answered, not really sure what else to say.

"But Sam's different?" Tarrant asked.

"Yes, a little."

"Is he going to live?" Tarrant was starting to sound more like a terrified child, now, with his constant questions.

"Sam will be fine," Ashley reassured him. "He's going to have the baby any minute now. In fact, I should get back in there. Go hang out in the common room, you won't be able to hear it as much there."

Tarrant opened his mouth to ask something else, but Mort grabbed his hand and started dragging him away before he could. It wouldn't do to have the man having a panic attack when Schnabel and Ashley needed to focus on Sam.

Once they got to the common room, Mort turned the television on, flipping to an educational cartoon show. He turned the volume up very loudly, hoping that it'd drown out Sam's screams and give Tarrant something else to focus on.

Still, Sam was really loud. Tarrant kept nervously looking at the television, then over towards the hallway where the delivery room was, then at Mort, as if expecting Mort to say something.

"It's okay," Mort said, forcing a smile. "Sam will be fine."

Right then, Mort and Tarrant could hear Ashley's voice. "One more push, Sam, and you'll be there…"

"AGGHHHHHHHH!" Sam screamed, crushing Joon's hand so hard that she felt like the bones were going to break. There was blood everywhere; it was on Sam's legs and on Joon's hands. The bed sheets were stained red.

"Come on, I can see her head," Schnabel said, resting a hand on Sam's knee. "One more push."

Sam could feel the baby coming out of him, and it hurt more than anything he could've ever imagined. He screamed again, sounding like a wounded or dying animal. Joon couldn't help but cringe at the sound.

"Here she is!" Ashley said, picking the baby up. The little girl was covered in blood and placenta, and was screaming loudly.

"Oh my God," Sam whispered, both at the fact that he was seeing his daughter for the first time, and the fact that he thought was going to pass out. He glanced down to see all the blood, and just the sight of it made him woozy.

"I don't feel good," He whispered, letting go of Joon's hand.

Ashley began the process of cleaning the baby and cutting its umbilical cord, while Schnabel cleaned Sam off.

"So much blood…" he said, under his breath. "Oh, God. Oh God. Oh God." He kept repeating the phrase, as if hoping it would help in some way. "Make it stop," He moaned. "Make it stop, please… PLEASE."

"It's over, Sam," Joon said. "The baby's out! You're done! You did a great job."

Sam looked at her, mouth agape. "It's over?"

"Yeah! You did it!"

"I did?"

"Mm-hm, she's perfect," Joon said.

"Good..."

And with that, Sam passed out.


	43. Chapter 43

******A/N: Phish Tacko beta'd this. Go check out her page, she's an awesome author!**

**Chapter 43**

Tarrant did not go to bed until very early in the morning. Mort had gone back to his room after a few hours, but Tarrant felt very nervous and he knew that being alone in his room in the dark probably would not help things much.

All he could think about were the possibilities that Sam was dead, or would die, and the fact that he might go through some similar type of experience giving birth. It terrified him. He'd never had a very high pain tolerance, nor had he been especially tough. In fact, for most of their childhoods, Carlie had been the one to defend him from most things. He couldn't count the number of times she'd stood up to a bully on his behalf, or had taken care of him when he'd fallen or been sick. There was no way that she would be able to save him if he were to die in childbirth, though, nor would she be able to make his pain stop if it got too bad.

Finally, around four in the morning, eyelids drooping, Tarrant wandered back to his room. He was tired enough to where he knew he could probably sleep, despite his fears.

He pulled his blanket up and cuddled beneath it, twirling his fingers around the fabric. He was so sleepy. Tarrant closed his eyes, expecting to fall asleep at any moment.

But, it seemed like every time he got close, he would wake up, panicking. It happened a few times, and by dawn, he was frustrated enough that it made him cry.

Carlie and Mirana must have sensed something was wrong, because they showed up only a few hours later. The two women found Tarrant curled into the fetal position, sobbing into his pillow. Both were shocked by the sight. They knew that Tarrant had some issues, but they hadn't expected to find him crying like that.

"Hey, brother, what's wrong?" Carlie asked, shaking Tarrant gently.

He sniffed, and turned to look at her, his eyes a deep green color. He didn't answer.

That was when Mirana came over.

"Tarrant, dear, why are you so upset?" She asked, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Tell us what's wrong." Seeing her sitting there near him, Tarrant pushed himself over, resting his head on Mirana's leg. She began to stroke his hair, trying to calm him.

"Sam had his baby last night," Tarrant finally said. "And he was in a lot of pain. He kept screaming."

"Did it frighten you?" Mirana asked, still running her fingers through Tarrant's hair.

Tarrant nodded. "He might've died!"

Carlie shook her head. "Love, we walked past Sam's room this morning. He was alive and well."

"Oh. Really? He didn't die? He was yelling so loudly… I thought surely he would've…" Tarrant trailed off, feeling slightly embarrassed at his irrational fear.

"No, dear, he didn't die," Mirana reassured him. "He's fine and baby Esther is fine, too."

"They named it Esther?"

Mirana nodded. "Yes. We spoke to them briefly."

Tarrant frowned. "But what if I'm in that much pain when I deliver? I don't know if I can stand it!"

Mirana moved her hand, rested it on Tarrant's side, and began stroking his stomach. "You'll be just fine. I promise. You're stronger than you think."

Tarrant shifted, moving so that Mirana could actually rub his stomach. It made him feel better. Carlie used to do that when he was a little boy and was sick with the flu.

The three sat there silently for a few moments, Tarrant just enjoying being touched and having his friend and sister nearby.

"I'm so tired," He finally whispered, eyes closing.

"Go to sleep," Mirana said.

"But I don't want to. You're both here."

"We'll stay for a while, right?" Mirana said, looking at Carlie.

"Yes. We'll be here when you wake up."

"Promise?" Tarrant asked, yawning.

Mirana smiled. "We promise."

00

Mirana and Carlie waited until Tarrant was sound asleep before leaving. They wanted to take advantage of the time to talk to Dr. Schnabel and see how Tarrant was really doing. They found the doctor in his office, talking to Ichabod. Knowing that they had time, and not wanting to be rude, the two waited outside until the doctor was finished. Still, Carlie couldn't help but overhear the conversation going on.

"For the first few days, I felt normal, but now I'm tired all the time, and I keep having these horrible cramps… not to mention the mood swings!" Ichabod explained, stifling a yawn as he finished the sentence. "See?!"

"Well… you look like you've lost some weight, at least," Dr. Schnabel commented.

"Yes, because I'm never hungry, ever. Katrina forces me to eat but afterward I always feel sick."

"I think you should continue on the pills for the rest of the month, and we can re-evaluate it after that."

"But… but, this isn't good!" Ichabod said, frustrated. "I can barely function! I can't go back to work feeling like this all day."

"You're entitled to three months of parental leave, right? Give your body a few more weeks to get used to the meds, and if it doesn't work, we will try another drug. I just don't want to keep switching you on and off of medications so quickly. It's not good for you."

"And being asleep half the day, being unable to eat, and being constant pain is good for me?!"

Schnabel frowned. "It's only a few more weeks."

Ichabod shook his head. "Fine. Whatever." He stood up to leave. "I'll be back in two weeks, then."

"Alright."

Ichabod left the room, slamming the door on the way out. He walked past Carlie and Mirana, not evening noticing that they were there.

"Wow, that poor man," Mirana said as Ichabod walked away.

"Yeah… he doesn't look well."

Dr. Schnabel heard their voices. "Hello?" He called. "Mirana, is that you? Carlie?"

"Yes, it's us," Mirana answered. "May we come in?"

"Sure."

Mirana and Carlie slipped into the office, shutting the door behind them.

"We're here to discuss Tarrant," Carlie started.

"We wanted to know how he's been doing," Mirana continued. "Physically and mentally."

The doctor nodded. "Physically, he's doing well. I gave him an exam a few days ago. He's right on track for someone four months along, no real health problems to speak of."

"Great," Mirana said. "And how's he doing otherwise? Has he come to you at all? He was very upset this morning."

"He's very closed off from the other residents," The doctor explained. "He has not discussed the… situation… that occurred with me yet. I can schedule a therapy appointment with him, though. I've been considering that. Tarrant seems to have some anxiety problems and it might help."

"That would be good," Mirana agreed. "This morning he was very concerned that Sam had died during childbirth. I think he's getting more and more nervous as time goes by."

"We can discuss that as well. Perhaps if he understands the labor process he'll feel a little better. I don't think he fully comprehends it right now."

"Great."

"I think it would also help if you two came to visit him more often, too. I'm not sure what your situation is, if you're here or in the states," Schnabel looked at them questioningly. "But he seems to miss you a lot."

Carlie and Mirana looked at each other.

"We'll make an effort to come more often," Carlie said, feeling slightly guilty.

"Good. If you want, you may want to come to Anthony's wedding next week. His friend Mr. Todd lives here at the shelter, it might be a nice surprise for Tarrant to see his friends at the party. I'm sure Anthony wouldn't mind. The more the merrier."

Mirana smiled. "We'll be there, just give us the address."


	44. Chapter 44

******A/N: Phish Tacko beta'd this. Go check out her page, she's an awesome author!**

**Chapter 44**

Anthony's wedding was held on a Saturday, at a little church on the other side of town. It was a simple affair but perfect for Anthony and Johanna. Both looked wonderful in their chosen outfits; Anthony wore a black suit and Johanna had decided to wear her mother's wedding dress.

Everyone who had been invited showed up, including Wonka, Charlie, Jack, Angelica, and their children.

Before the wedding actually started, Sam, Willy, Mort and Jack all took some time to catch up. Willy had brought Rae along, and everyone was surprised by how big she had gotten. She was a beautiful little girl, with big eyes and an inquisitive nature. She and Anakin seemed to get along, well at least as well as infants could get along.

Anakin was crawling at that point, and Rae had made an effort to chase after him a few times. Wonka held her back, while Mort held onto Anakin.

"Anakin's really smart," Jack noted, watching as the little boy tried to squirm out of Mort's grasp so he could continue to explore. "He seems a bit young to be crawling."

"Well, his dad is really intelligent," Mort said, grinning.

"We figure we still have a few months before Angela starts," Jack replied. "But I'm sure once she does, she'll be keeping us busy."

"Oh, yeah," Wonka said. "It's crazy what they can get into. Just a few days ago Rae crawled out of my office and into the Chocolate Room! Charlie caught her playing with one of the jelly pumpkins, and she got all sticky!" The chocolatier couldn't help but wrinkle his nose in disgust. He hated the thought of being dirty in any way.

"She's crawling pretty early too," Sam noted.

"She's curious about everything and seems to just want to get up and go. I was like that too, as a child," Wonka explained.

Just then, the sound of shrieking filled the room. Everyone turned to see Gilbert, Becky, and Tommy, who was currently screaming at the top of his lungs.

Quickly, Gilbert handed the baby to Becky, and he instantly quieted. Gilbert was getting used to this by now, and was no longer offended. If anything he was just happy that the screaming had stopped.

"Sorry, guys!" He called out to the group of friends.

Everyone nodded in understanding. They all mainly felt bad for the red head.

The group talked a bit longer, until Ichabod came by, holding Jackson. "The wedding's about to start," He said. He looked rather tired.

"You look good," He said to Willy, remembering how sick and thin the man had looked the last time they'd met.

"Thanks… I've been making an effort to eat and sleep," Wonka said. "Are you okay, though? You don't look well."

Ichabod shrugged. "The birth control pills make me tired and sick if I try to eat."

"Oh." Wonka replied, not really sure what to say.

"So I haven't eaten in about three days," Ichabod continued.

"That can't be healthy," Wonka said. "You remember what happened to me when I wasn't taking care of myself, don't you?"

"All I want to do is sleep," Ichabod answered, looking like he was zoning out a bit. "I'm so tired."

"Right. Well, you can sleep after the wedding. Let's go sit down for now." Using his free arm, Wonka led Ichabod to the benches. Everyone else followed.

The music began to play. Instead of the traditional song, though, "Carrie" by Europe could be heard playing softly through the speakers set down in strategic areas.

Sweeney was holding Johanna's arm, walking her down the aisle as a proud father would. When they got to the end, he moved towards Anthony's side. Apparently he was also the best man.

As the pastor went on with the ceremony, both Anakin and Rae slipped away from their parents, who were focused on Anthony and Johanna. The two children crawled under the pews in the church, following each other around as they explored their surroundings. They both ended up bumping into several people's feet, but somehow no one noticed.

It was only after Mort noticed that Anakin was missing that they found the babies. Both were underneath the bench near Ichabod, but the constable was too out of it to notice.

"Psst, Katrina," He whispered, hoping Ichabod's wife would help. "Can you hand me Anakin?"

"What?" She asked, loudly. The pastor stopped talking for a moment, but started again.

"Shh!" Mort hissed. "My kid is under your bench. Hand him over? I think Rae is there too."

Katrina rolled her eyes, but bent down and picked Anakin up, passing the little boy to Mort.

"Thanks! Now get Rae," Mort whispered.

Katrina shook her head, but picked the little girl up and also handed her to Mort, who handed her to Wonka.

"Missing something?" He asked, pushing the girl into her father's hands.

"Oh!" Wonka gasped, startled. "I didn't even notice she was gone."

Once again, the loudness of it all caused the pastor to stop speaking.

"May we continue?" He asked, glaring at Wonka. Anthony and Johanna both looked at him as well.

"Yes. Sorry!" Wonka called.

Anthony and Johanna shrugged and turned back towards each other.

"You may now kiss the bride," The pastor said, completing the ceremony. Anthony and Johanna leaned in and kissed each other passionately, and everyone stood up and clapped as the two walked back up the aisle, hand in hand.

00

Everyone walked downstairs to the reception area. It was a pot-luck dinner, with everyone bringing something so that the cost would be less, but everything had been set up previously, including the beautiful wedding cake that Schnabel had purchased for the couple.

Tarrant lagged behind the crowd, feeling rather alone despite being surrounded. Being at the wedding made him feel kind of depressed, for some reason. He couldn't really put his finger on it. It just was.

So he was surprised when he walked down the stairs to see Mirana, Carlie and Alice all standing in the reception room, waiting for him. Dr. Montgomery was also here, standing hand in hand with Mirana.

Tarrant stopped in his tracks when he first saw them, wondering if they were real or if this was a new symptom of his insanity.

"Is this real?" He finally asked, rubbing his eyes.

"We're all really here," Carlie said, coming up to her brother and giving him a hug.

Tarrant couldn't help but smile as the other three came up to him and either hugged him or patted him on the back.

"We figured we'd surprise you," Alice explained. "Your doctor said we could all come, and Johanna said it was okay…"

"This is great!" Tarrant replied excitedly. "I'm so happy to see you!"

Mirana smiled at him. "We should go take a seat. The bride and the groom are going to enter soon."

The four took seats at a table near the back, where they sat near Gilbert, Tommy, and Becky.

A minute later, music started playing over the speakers in the room. It was "Welcome to the Jungle" by Guns n Roses.

Gilbert rolled his eyes and smiled. "I'm not surprised," He whispered to everyone at the table.

Anthony and Johanna then came down the stairs. Everyone stood up and clapped for them.

They waved to everyone, and took their seats at the head table. The food was laid out buffet style, like it had been at Sam's wedding, and the couple invited everyone to go eat.

A massive but orderly line formed at the food table. Everyone was either loading up their plates or returning to the tables when suddenly, Mort noticed something. Anakin and Rae had gotten out of their high chairs and had crawled over to the table with the wedding cake. Somehow they'd gotten on top of it, and were sticking their little hands into the cake, playing with it.

"Shit!" Mort yelled, dropping his plate and racing over to the table. He picked up both babies, one on each arm, and carried them away, not caring if he got white frosting all over his nice clothes. He quickly walked over to Wonka, and handed Rae to him.

Wonka looked horrified at what his child had done. Mort, too, felt horrible. Both came up to Anthony and Johanna, who were looking at them, indiscernible expressions on their faces. Mort and Wonka couldn't tell if they were angry or sad or what they were thinking.

"I'm SO sorry about her!" Wonka started. "I honestly didn't see her get out… I'll be happy to pay you guys for the cake so you can get something later."

"I'm sorry too," Mort said. "We didn't mean to ruin your day… "

Anthony cracked a smile for the first time in a very long time. "Nah, it's actually really cute."

Johanna smiled as well. "We're not upset. It was adorable."

"Oh." Wonka was clearly surprised. "Well I'll still give you some extra money anyway."

"It's fine. Really," Johanna said. "Don't worry about it."

"Alright," Wonka finally agreed.

"You guys should go finish eating. I think we're going to do the toasts in a little bit," Anthony said.

Both Wonka and Mort nodded, mumbling their apologies once again along with a 'congratulations'.

Everyone talked and enjoyed their food for a little bit longer, before the toasts began. Sweeney, of course, had something to say to his daughter and his best friend. He talked about how happy he was that they'd ended up together. By the end of it, there was barely a dry eye in the whole room.

Angelica was up next. She had a short speech written out, mainly wishing the couple well and citing some of her experiences in her relationship with Jack. She was about two sentences in when she felt her nose start to hurt. By the third sentence, it was starting to bleed, and pretty profusely at that. Blood dripped all over the white tablecloths and on Angelica's dress. A drop of it even got on Katrina, who was sitting near her.

"Ew!" Katrina sounded absolutely revolted. "What the hell?"

Jack quickly handed Angelica a napkin to wipe her nose, and blood began to soak through it within seconds.

"She can't control it, Katrina," Ichabod said, annoyed that his wife was once again starting to cause a scene.

Katrina scowled at him, but managed to keep her mouth shut.

"I'm sorry," Angelica said, wiping her nose again. "It's been doing that since I broke my nose." Her voice was nasally.

"It's okay," Johanna said, waiting patiently for Angelica.

It took about five minutes for her to get the bleeding under control. She managed to finish her speech with as much dignity as her voice would allow her.

00

At the end of the night, the guests came out of the reception feeling happy, especially Anthony. It had been the first time he'd smiled in close to two months. Everyone hugged each other, and promised to keep in contact.

Sweeney, Mort, Tarrant, Sam and Edward all returned to the shelter, very tired. Sweeney especially so, since he wasn't used to being out of bed for long periods of time. He'd fallen asleep on the car ride home, and it'd taken the efforts of both Ashley and Dr. Schnabel to rouse him.

Sam and Edward settled in to get some rest, knowing that the next morning would be the beginning of a very long day. Sam would finally get to go home with Esther, and Edward would be moving in with them as well.

Joon had spent most of her free time preparing the house for them. She'd set up a nursery for the three babies, and had set up the spare bedroom for Edward. She and Sam had some extra money from one of her relatives that'd passed away, and she'd ended up buying Edward a new bed, dresser and a mirror. The dresser even had handles that he could hook his scissors into to open. All in all she was pretty proud of her work. Her goal had been to make the transition easy for both her husband and his friend.

When the morning came, Edward and Sam had breakfast with Mort and Tarrant, and had said their goodbyes. At least for now. Their house was only a few miles away, and they sincerely did intend to visit. After that, they went up to say goodbye to Sweeney. They walked into the barber's room to find him sitting on his bed, laptop open, and his shirt pulled up, revealing his very large, very pale stomach.

"Uh... Mr. Todd, why do you have your shirt up?" Sam asked, startling Sweeney. He hadn't been paying much attention to anything besides the Youtube videos he was watching. Sweeney quickly pulled his shirt down, at least as far as it would go, being as big as he was.

For the first, and only time within recent memory, Sweeney blushed. "The baby got hot."

"…Okay..." Sam said, unsure of what else to say.

"So, you guys are leaving today?" Sweeney asked, trying to change the subject.

"We're going to start moving in a few minutes. We just wanted to say goodbye for now, and tell you that we'll only be three miles away, so we'll definitely visit."

Sweeney frowned. "I'll miss you."

"Really?" Edward asked, surprised.

"Well, I mean, I'll sort of miss you, I guess," Sweeney said, trying to show his toughness. "I don't miss people often." His eyes gave away his true feelings, though. Sweeney meant what he had said.

"We'll miss you too, Mr. Todd. You make life... interesting." Sam answered, smiling.

"Thanks?"

"You're welcome. We'll see you soon."

And with that, Sam and Edward went to start moving.

00

That evening, Sam, Edward, Joon, and the babies all had their first dinner together as a 'family'. The babies were just drinking bottles, but the adults had pizza. Edward enjoyed it, and felt like he fit right in with the Dawsons. Neither of them had even looked at him funny while he tried eat his food.

At the shelter, the residents were also gathered, but up in Sweeney's room. Anthony and Johanna had come over as well, and Mort had made some popcorn. Sweeney had a blu-ray copy of Titanic that they had all wanted to watch. Tarrant had joined as well.

By the end of the movie, almost everyone was in tears. Anthony made no attempt to hide that he was crying hysterically, and Tarrant was crying as well. Sweeney looked like he had tears in his eyes, but was trying to hide it. Mort was sniffling as well.

Mort looked over at Sweeney, who was discretely trying to wipe his eyes.

"Stop looking at me." Sweeney hissed at him. This caused everyone else to look at him.

"Are you crying, Mr. Todd?" Anthony asked.

"No. I never cry." Sweeney answered, though he sniffled right after that.

Mort smirked and handed Sweeney a box of tissues. "Here's some tissues to help while you're not crying."

"Fuck off!" Sweeney yelled, handing the tissue box to Anthony, who was still crying.

Johanna pulled her husband into a hug, and when he calmed down, she moved to comfort Tarrant, who looked extremely sad.

"She said she would never let go," He whispered, tears streaming down his face.

"Aww, Tarrant, it's just a movie. The actors are still alive..."

"SHE SAID SHE WOULDN'T LET GO!"

"Tarrant..."

"DAMN IT, ROSE! YOU SAID YOU WOULDN'T LET GO!"

Johanna sighed. Obviously this would be harder than she anticipated.

"Tarrant, you need to calm down."

Tarrant sniffed. "It's just not fair..."

Johanna wrapped her arms around him, "I know, I know. It's okay though. It's not real. I mean, the Titanic really did sink, but this movie isn't real."

Tarrant sniffed again, and Anthony handed him a tissue.

When everyone seemed to have calmed down, Mort spoke up.

"So... anyone up for watching Ferris Bueller's Day Off?"

00

After the second movie, everyone, except for Tarrant and Sweeney, was tired, so Tarrant stayed upstairs.

"My favorite show is on," Sweeney said, flipping the channels.

"Which show?"

"1000 Ways To Die. Wanna watch it?"

Tarrant shrugged. He just didn't want to go back to his room. He wasn't tired yet.

"Sure."

Sweeney turned the show on. The first episode was a story about a Vegas showgirl who died of a severe infection after cutting herself shaving her legs. The images were gruesome and disturbing, and it left Tarrant feeling very nervous and afraid.

"Can that really happen?" He asked when the commercials started.

"Well... yes, if someone got an infection and did not seek medical treatment. But there's a lot of antibiotics that can take care of that."

"But... what if you didn't know about it?"

"You'd know, or someone would figure it out. Look at Edward. His stitches got infected and Johanna and Anthony realized it right away."

"But what if no one noticed?"

Sweeney sighed. "Then I guess the person would die."

Tarrant cringed. "That's horrible."

"I guess. Everybody dies, Tarrant."

Tarrant sighed and the show came back on. His questions continued for the rest of the night, until Sweeney eventually got annoyed and kicked Tarrant out.


	45. Chapter 45

******A/N: Phish Tacko beta'd this. Go check out her page, she's an awesome author!**

**Chapter 45**

Over a thousand miles away, across the ocean, Jack, Angelica and Angela were arriving in England to visit Will and Elizabeth. They'd made record time getting across and were excited to see their friends and introduce them to Angela.

It was mid-afternoon when they arrived, and within an hour Angelica was already feeling bored. At least on the ship, there were always things to do. She then happened to notice that the grass in the front yard was getting a bit high.

"Hey, Elizabeth?" She asked. "I need something to do. May I cut your grass?"

Elizabeth seemed taken aback by the question. "You want to mow the lawn?"

"I figure it can be part of paying you back for letting us stay here," Angelica answered.

"Um, okay. The lawnmower's in the shed." Elizabeth took a key ring off of the key rack and handed it to her.

Angelica took the key, smiled, and nodded. She put on her neon orange shutter sunglasses and headed outside. It only took her a minute to find the lawnmower. She turned it on and began riding it towards the lawn.

Fifteen minutes later, Jack noticed that Will was staring out the window at his front yard.

"What's goin' on, mate?" Jack asked.

"Angelica is... um. Just look."

Jack looked out and saw that Angelica was riding the lawn mower, headphones on, while pretending to conduct the music with a big stick in one hand. He burst out laughing. "I HAVE to film this!"

He quickly went for his camera, and turned it on. "Elizabeth!" He called out as he focused in on Angelica. "You need to see this!"

Elizabeth rushed over and took a look. "Wow. I... What is she listening to?"

"Probably something classical," Will answered.

Jack focused the video camera on Angelica, narrating as he went. "We're in England right now, with our friends, and Angelica is mowing the lawn out front..." He got a shot of her waving the stick very quickly to the music. "Apparently she's pretending to conduct the music."

Angelica then caught sight of Jack, and waved at him. Everyone waved back. Not one to be embarrassed about doing whatever she wanted, Angelica returned to mowing and conducting music a moment later. Jack continued filming for another few minutes, capturing Will and Elizabeth's constant laughter on the tape as well.

"I'm so sending this to the guys from the shelter," He said, turning the camera off. "They're gonna love it."

"Your woman is definitely one of a kind," Elizabeth said, smiling.

00

Tarrant woke up at the shelter very late the next morning. He'd only gotten a few hours of sleep, because he'd been up most of the night thinking. His nervousness about dying had led to general paranoia which had led to Tarrant thinking that everyone was out to get him.

When he didn't come down for breakfast or lunch, Ashley went to check on him, worried that perhaps something was wrong. She knocked on his door, and could hear what sounded like something scurrying around, but there was no actual answer, so she knocked again.

"GO AWAY!" Tarrant called out. Then it sounded like something had hit the door, as if someone had thrown an object at it.

She cracked open the door, now very worried. "Tarrant, what's wrong?!" she asked.

Tarrant was on the floor, on his hands and knees. His alarm clock lay beside the door, broken from when he'd thrown it. He crawled into the corner and crouched there.

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" He shouted, wrapping his arms around himself. "You'll never take me alive!"

"What?! Tarrant, what are you talking about?"

Tarrant's eyes were changing colors constantly, and he looked around the room madly, like a trapped animal trying to find its way out.

"Stay... away!" He yelled, picking up a pillow and throwing it at Ashley.

Ashley shook her head, knowing that something wasn't right. She left the room and quickly searched for Schnabel. When she told him about how Tarrant was acting, he came right away.

They found Tarrant still crouched in the corner, staring at them, looking like he'd jump on them if they got too close.

Surprisingly, when Schnabel did walk closer, Tarrant didn't fight. He just curled up, as if he were ready to accept whatever was going to happen. He mumbled something under his breath, but Schnabel didn't quite here it.

"What'd you say, Tarrant?" he asked, slowly getting closer to the man.

"Please don't make it hurt too much," Tarrant said, a little louder.

Dr. Schnabel was stunned. "Tarrant, I'm not going to hurt you."

Tarrant shook his head. "No, no, no. I know your games. Just... Just make it fast, please."

"What are you talking about?" Schnabel reached out to touch Tarrant's forehead, thinking that maybe he had a fever and was delirious. Tarrant flinched as his hand came into contact with him. Nope, no fever.

"How long has he been acting like this?" Schnabel asked.

"I have no idea. Mr. Todd mentioned that they watched a scary television show late last night and that Tarrant had asked a lot of questions, but he didn't say anything besides that."

"Something is wrong," Schnabel said. "I need to take a blood sample."

Ashley frowned. "That's not going to be easy."

"I know." Schnabel reached out and touched Tarrant's arm. The man flinched once again, and began to shake. "Tarrant, can you understand me?"

"Please don't make it hurt too much," He repeated, eyes wide with fear.

"I'm not going to hurt you. Well, actually, I need to take some blood. Can you let me do that?"

Tarrant shook his head. "No! Stop! Why can't you leave me alone?! Tell Stayne that I'm done, I'm finished, there's nothing more he can take from me so he should let me die in peace!"

"You're not dying, sweetie," Ashley said. "We're just trying to help you."

Tarrant just stared at her, as if deciding whether to believe her or not. Finally Schnabel spoke up. "Ashley, can you get my syringe kit, please?"

"Sure..." The nurse left the room, returning a moment later with a small plastic kit. Tarrant was, of course, still in the corner. She handed the kit to the doctor.

"Are you going to let me take blood?" The doctor asked Tarrant again.

Tarrant shook his head 'no' and began rocking back and forth.

"Guess we'll have to do this the hard way, then," Schnabel said. "Ashley, grab his legs when I lift him up, please."

Ashley sighed, but agreed to do as asked.

Schnabel shook his head and took a deep breath. He reached under Tarrant's armpits and pulled him up, lifting him off the ground. "Get his feet!"

Quickly, Ashley grabbed Tarrant's feet before he could start kicking too much, and the two of them pushed him onto his bed. Schnabel straddled him at the waist, and noticed that Tarrant was clenching his eyes shut, probably terrified. He was sweating a lot, too.

"Get a needle. I'm going to hold his arms down. Take a vial of blood."

"Okay..." Ashley uncapped a needle, and looked down at Tarrant, who still had his eyes shut, and now seemed to be whispering something to himself. It sounded like he was saying 'please, please, please,' as if quietly begging his perceived attacker to let him go.

"I'm sorry, Tarrant," She said, as she slipped the needle under his skin. Tarrant groaned softly, but didn't really try to fight. Perhaps he was too tired to do so.

It only took Ashley a moment to get the blood, and bandage him up. When she did, Schnabel let him go, and he immediately made a beeline back for the corner. Once again, he began rocking back and forth.

As they left the room, Schnabel turned to the nurse. "Lock him in," He said, handing her the key to the room. Ashley opened her mouth to protest, but the doctor spoke up again before she could get a word out. "It's for his own good, and for the good of everyone here."

00

Schnabel sent the test for rush analysis. He was friends with the man who ran the lab, and got the guy to do a favor for him. He needed to find out why Tarrant was acting as he was, and fast.

The phone in his office rang a few hours later.

"Leonard?" The voice asked. It was Jimmy, the guy who ran the lab.

"Jimmy– Hey, did you get the results back?"

There was a sigh on the other end of the line. "Well, I've actually only done the heavy metals test... I think I know what's wrong with your patient."

"I'm listening."

"His Mercury levels are through the roof. I tested the sample twice on separate machines because I thought it was an error, but we're talking potentially lethal levels. Really, he should be dead. The only explanation I can think of is prolonged exposure. He's probably built up a tolerance to it, to an extent, but it would certainly explain his psychological problems."

Now it was Schnabel's turn to sigh. It made sense. "Alright... thanks, Jim. Can you run the other tests anyway? I just don't want to miss anything."

"Sure thing. I'll fax over the results as soon as possible."

"Great. Thanks!"

When he got off the phone he called Ashley into the room, and asked her to sit down.

"Jimmy ran the tests, and says that Tarrant's mercury levels are extremely high."

Ashley frowned. "That makes sense. Maybe it's in something he uses when he makes hats."

"In this day and age? Most countries have laws against it."

Ashley shrugged. "You never know. He could be from some place with archaic practices."

"Something else is wrong, too, though," Schnabel said, biting his thumbnail. "I can't put my finger on it, though. Have you managed to talk to him at all?"

"I brought him some dinner but he was in the corner again, so I just left it on the floor and locked the door."

Schnabel nodded. "If that doesn't work we're going to have to restrain him and give him an IV."

"You know, I was thinking, maybe you should try to contact his friends and his sister. He seems calmer around them... perhaps they can get through to him where we can't."

"Probably a good idea. They gave me an address, but it's in London... I can send a letter, but it's likely not to get there for a few days. I'll send it out tonight. For now... I guess we'll just have to try to make him trust us. Go check on him in another hour, see if he's eaten anything or needs to use the bathroom or anything like that."

"Alright."

Schnabel dismissed Ashley after that, leaving her to her duties.

00

Ashley knocked on Tarrant's door an hour later, as promised. There was no answer, so she cracked the door open and walked in. Tarrant was under the bed this time, looking out at her. She noticed that he'd eaten a little bit of food off of the tray she'd bought him, but not much.

"Tarrant, can you come out?" She asked sweetly.

Tarrant just shook his head 'no' slowly.

"I'm not going to hurt you," She added.

Again, he shook his head 'no'.

Ashley thought for a moment. "Are you hungry? Do you need to use the bathroom at all? I... I just want to make sure you're comfortable."

This time, Tarrant shook his head 'yes'.

"Which one?"

"Bathroom," He said softly.

"You need to come out from under the bed, and then I can take you."

Tarrant considered this for a few seconds before finally crawling out. Ashley was surprised that he even fit under there, being almost five months pregnant, but he'd managed to do it.

Fearing that he'd try to dart out of the room, Ashley locked the door before he was even standing. Tarrant noticed this and frowned.

"You know where the bathroom is," She told him, pointing at the door nearest to his closet.

"I don't want to go there," Tarrant said, taking a step back.

"Why?"

"I don't like it. Everything's blue."

"You mean the tiles?" Ashley asked.

"We should try to find 'B' words. I'll go first: blue, bird, bite, bingo..."

Ashley sighed. "Tarrant, I'll take to you the bathroom in the hallway– the yellow one– if you promise to hold my hand while we walk."

"... Banana, baby, blossom..." He continued, completely ignoring her.

Ashley was getting frustrated. "Tarrant!"

Tarrant stopped talking and looked at her. "I'll hold your hand."

Ashley smiled, happy that Tarrant at least trusted her a little bit. "Great." She reached out to take his hand, and he slipped his hand into hers.

Together, they walked down the hallway, thankfully not running into anyone else. Ashley had no idea how Tarrant would react to the other residents.

She led him to the bathroom, closing the door after he went in. She became concerned after he did not come out for ten minutes, and she heard the water running.

"Tarrant? Can I come in?" She asked.

No answer. Of course.

Frowning, she opened the door, grateful that Schnabel insisted that the doors not have locks on them. She found Tarrant in the bathtub, fully clothed, and running the hot water.

"What are you doing? If you wanted a bath, you need to get undressed, and you should've told me," Ashley said, obviously annoyed.

Tarrant picked up at the anger in her voice and seemed to curl up just a little bit more.

"I was cold," He whispered, bringing his knees up to his chest. As far as he could, at least.

Ashley shook her head, feeling a little guilty. Tarrant looked like a little kid who was upset about something. "If you're cold, I could've gotten you some tea, or raised the heat a little..."

Tarrant shrugged, and flicked some water at her, smiling again.

"Cute. Get out, now. If you want a bath you can take one in the bathroom in your room."

Tarrant's eyes changed colors from brown to green to yellow, as he decided whether he wanted to obey Ashley's request or not. Finally, he decided that it was probably easier to just do what she asked. He pushed himself out of the bathtub and stood up, his waterlogged clothes clinging tightly to his body. Ashley reached into the closet and pulled out a large, fluffy towel. When Tarrant stepped out, she wrapped it around him.

"There you go. Nice and warm, right?"

Tarrant nodded in agreement.

"When we go back to your room, you need to change your clothes," She reminded him.

"No," Tarrant protested.

"You're going to catch a cold if you stay in those wet clothes," Ashley said, grabbing his hand. "You need new clothes."

"Clothes starts with C... Like couch... or Corvette..."

"We're going now, Tarrant," Ashley said, pulling him along with her.

He followed, holding onto her hand tightly. When they made it back to his bedroom, Ashley pulled the towel off of him. "Okay, time to change clothes. Do you want to put your pajamas on?"

Tarrant stared at her, then, without warning, pulled away from her and dove onto his bed, wrapping the comforter around himself.

"I give up," Ashley said, figuring that he'd be okay so long as he had something around him. She went into his drawers, and took out a pair of pajamas made of several different patches of fabric. She left it out for him, hoping that he'd change into it when he got cold enough.


	46. Chapter 46

******A/N: Phish Tacko beta'd this. Go check out her page, she's an awesome author!**

**Chapter 46**

The next morning, Alice came to back to Overland. She'd stayed with Mirana for a period, but something told her that it was time to go home. When she arrived, her mother, who, by now, was used to her long outings, told her that she'd gotten a letter while she was gone. One look at the return address alarmed her. It was a note, sent overnight, from the shelter that Tarrant was at.

_"Dear Mirana, Alice, and Carlie," It started. "Your friend Tarrant has taken ill. He has been acting very paranoid and nervous around us. I think it would be of help if you could visit him. He trusts you. Enclosed is my office phone number, please reach out to me at your earliest convenience."_

Schnabel's signature and phone number were listed at the end.

As fast as she could, Alice got to a phone, and called the doctor. He explained the situation, and she promised that she and her friends would be there within the next day. Her next action was to give her mother a kiss goodbye, and slip back into the rabbit hole. Hopefully, she'd be able to get to the White Queen within a few hours.

00

Of course, Murphy's Law has it that everything that can go wrong will go wrong, and as Tarrant was shivering in his bed, still wet from the bathtub, Sweeney was upstairs feeling very sick.

It'd started the night before, with a slight headache, and today, he was lying on his bed, shivering from a fever, feeling dizzy and nauseous. The baby also seemed to be having a great time kicking him in the ribs repeatedly.

When Ashley came to check on him, she was surprised at how bad he looked, and he barely acknowledged her presence.

"Are you okay?" She asked, walking over to his bed and resting a hand on his forehead. "Wow, you're really burning up. I need to take your temperature." The fact that Sweeney didn't protest when she put the thermometer in his mouth sent up red flags in Ashley's mind. Still, it wasn't as high as she had expected.

"It's only 100. Not that bad."

Sweeney just groaned. "I think I'm dying."

"Well, what hurts?"

Sweeney must have analyzed this prior to Ashley coming upstairs, because he proceeded to run off a sizeable list of symptoms.

"I'm nauseated, coughing, hot, cold, sweating, shivering, my head hurts, my stomach hurts, my bones hurt, and the baby keeps kicking me."

"...Wow." Ashley replied. "That's a lot. It sounds like you have the flu."

"I haven't felt this terrible in years," Sweeney said, before going into a coughing fit. Ashley helped him sit up, and rubbed his back. "Not since I was in prison," He added after he'd caught his breath.

"You had the flu when you were in prison?"

Sweeney nodded. "When I was pregnant with Johanna, actually. It was horrible. They didn't let me stop working. At least here, I can rest, I suppose... Thankfully, I was young then, my body was able to take it."

"I see. Well, you'll be all right, as long as you take it easy."

"I'm on bed rest. How much easier can I possibly take it?"

"Good point. Just relax as much as you can. I'll bring you up some soup and a cup of tea." Ashley proceeded to help the barber lay back down, and tucked the blankets around him as best she could. "I'll be right back."

00

Ashley came back up a few minutes later, with some chicken soup, hot tea, and a bottle of Tylenol to help reduce Sweeney's fever. She found him curled up on the bed, silently gripping the sheets and covered in sweat.

Frowning, she put her tray down and leaned over, resting a hand on his arm. He glanced up at her, eyes pleading for something – probably for her to help him. She'd never seen him so vulnerable looking before, not even when he'd first been bedridden because of the preeclampsia.

"I know, it hurts," She said softly. "I brought you some food and tea and some Tylenol to bring your fever down." She gently helped him sit up, noting that his hair was sticking out in all directions, probably from a night of tossing and turning in his bed. Ashley smoothed it back a little, pulling it off of his face.

Once he was sitting, Ashley picked up her tray and began to feed him some of the soup. Once again Sweeney didn't protest. He just sat there, letting the nurse spoon chicken and star soup into his mouth. He didn't have the energy to shove her off, anyway, and he was hungry, even though his stomach hurt. All he hoped was that he wouldn't get sick in front of her.

For her part, Ashley did her job kindly and efficiently, not talking to Sweeney at all. When he'd finished the soup, she held up the cup of tea to his lips so he could drink it, and offered him two Tylenol. He swallowed them and drank the tea down quickly.

Ashley sat there for a few more minutes. Sweeney felt too out of it to notice. Just the mere act of eating had made him tired. Ashley saw the sleepy look in his eyes, and helped him lie down again.

"Just sleep," She said, pulling the covers up again. "I'll come back and check on you soon. Call me if you need anything."

Sweeney nodded, and closed his eyes. He was asleep before Ashley left the room.

00

As Ashley walked downstairs and past the front door, she noticed several people on the doorstep. She opened the door to reveal Mirana, Carlie, Alice, Gilbert, Becky (who was holding Tommy) and a shorter man in a doctor's lab coat.

Everyone walked in at once.

"Hi, everyone..." Ashley greeted them. She looked them all over. Gilbert wasn't looking too great. He was leaning on Becky, who was trying to balance holding him up while holding the baby. The shorter man was on Gilbert's other side, also trying to hold him up.

"Is he okay?" Ashley asked, moving to help Gilbert stand. "And who might you be?"

"I'm Doctor Harvey Montgomery," The man said. "I'd shake your hand but..." He wrapped an arm around Gilbert. "I believe he has the flu."

Ashley sighed. "Yes, there's a bout of that going around."

Gilbert didn't seem to even register that people were talking about him. The sickness, combined with his overall exhaustion from watching Tommy, was too much. His head lolled to the side, and he rested on the doctor's shoulder.

Ashley helped take on more of Gilbert's weight. "Get him to the couch. He should lie down," She said. Together with Harvey she led Gilbert over, lying him down. Gilbert shivered and closed his eyes, curling up much like Sweeney had done.

"He's been sick since this morning," Becky explained. "He had a slight headache and sore throat last night, but it wasn't anything big. This morning he was very bad off. Could barely move, as you can see."

"He's obviously got a high fever," Harvey said. "I could feel the heat radiating off of him."

"There's not much we can do besides make him comfortable while he recovers," Ashley said. "Has he been throwing up today?"

"Mm-hm," Becky replied. "On and off all morning. I couldn't get him to keep anything down."

"We should try to get him hydrated, then."

Harvey nodded in agreement. "Probably for the best."

"Maybe some anti-nausea meds, and some painkillers... We can do more for him than we can for Mr. Todd," Ashley mumbled, trying to figure out what to do.

"Mr. Todd?" Mirana asked.

"Oh, he's a resident here. He's pregnant, so we can't give him as much to help. Gilbert, can you hear me?" She asked, rubbing Gilbert's arm gently.

He cracked his eyes open and nodded slightly. Ashley could see that his cheeks were flushed red, probably from the fever.

"We're going to take you to one of the rooms and get you some medicine to feel better," She explained.

"It hurts," He whispered, words slurring together.

"You'll feel better soon. Harvey, can you help me again?"

Harvey nodded, and helped Ashley lift Gilbert up. They brought him to the closest room available, everyone else following behind. Once he was settled on a bed, Ashley began collecting the things she needed. "I know you're all here to see Tarrant," She said, addressing Alice, Mirana, Carlie and Harvey, "But can one of you get Dr. Schnabel? He needs to sign off on these medications before I give them to Gilbert."

Alice agreed to go, and ran off, finding the doctor in his office. She quickly brought him to the room.

"Another one?" The doctor asked, "This flu is really getting people. Weird that it's happening in the summer. Anyway, what do you need, Ashley?"

"Gilbert's very dehydrated and he can't keep liquids down, so I think we need an antiemetic, some saline, and some painkillers. Then we can try to get him to drink something once he's feeling better."

Schnabel looked Gilbert over. He was sweating a lot, and had tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

"Gilbert," The doctor said, tapping his arm gently. "Are you crying because you're in pain?"

Gilbert opened his mouth to reply, but suddenly clutched at his stomach, leaned over the bed, and started throwing up. Only a little bit of liquid came up, since he really didn't' have much in him.

Becky used her free hand to rub his back, trying to stay out of the way so she didn't get thrown up on at the same time.

After a few minutes, Gilbert seemed to recover, and rolled onto his back, groaning.

"Get the forms so I can sign them." Schnabel said. "We'll do what we can to get him feeling better soon."

00

Just as Ashley and Schnabel finished setting Gilbert up, they heard a very distinctive sound coming from the room next door. Mort's room. It sounded like the writer was vomiting. A second later, the sound stopped, and there was a loud 'thud'.

Schnabel shook his head. "I'd better go check on him. Take these guys to see Tarrant, won't you?" He addressed Ashley. "And Becky, you can stay with Gilbert if you want."

Ashley, Carlie, Mirana, Alice, and Harvey went off in one direction down the hall while Dr. Schnabel headed to Mort's room. The doctor found Mort semi-conscious on the floor, next to the trash can that he had been throwing up in. Anakin was also in his crib, crying.

Meanwhile, down the hallway, Ashley opened the door to Tarrant's room. Once again, he was hiding in the corner. As soon as he saw his friends, though, he reacted. Not really in the way that Ashley expected, either. Rather, instead of being happy to see them, he flung himself at his sister, holding onto her and mumbling something about keeping everyone else away.

Carlie, too, was surprised by this. She wrapped her arms around her little brother, hoping that the action would make him feel better. He just seemed to cling to her more tightly, though.

"Tarrant, your friends are here to see you too," She said, running a hand through his hair.

Tarrant shook his head. "No... Stayne sent them. Keep them away! Please, Carlie!"

"My poor little brother," She said, "Stayne didn't send anyone here. We came just to see you and make sure you're okay."

Tarrant didn't seem to believe her, though, and he pulled her towards the bed. She followed him, not that she had much of a choice, seeing as he was latched onto her pretty tightly. She sat down next to him, still holding onto him. He rested his head on her shoulder.

"Make them leave," He whispered to her.

"They're your friends, though!" She answered. "Come on, Tarrant, you know them."

"But... Stayne..." He said, not entirely able to get all of his thoughts out. He felt frustrated, and Carlie could tell this.

"Stayne didn't send them. Come on. Think clearly, Tarrant. Do you think I'd ever let them near you if they meant you harm?"

"Well... no..." Tarrant answered, casting his gaze downwards. He couldn't imagine Carlie ever trying to hurt him in any way.

"I've always defended you, and I always will. You must believe me when I tell you that these people are your friends." Carlie put her fingers under Tarrant's chin and lifted his face so that she could look him in the eyes.

As soon as he looked up, Tarrant's eyes began filling with tears. He realized that Carlie was right, and he felt very guilty.

"I'm sorry," He sobbed. "I didn't think... I just can't stop remembering it..."

Knowing that Tarrant recognized them now, Mirana stepped forward, and took a seat on Tarrant's other side. Feeling as distraught as he was, Tarrant reached out for her hand, while his sister hugged him. He wanted as much support as he could get right then.

After a few moments of general silence, aside from the sound of Tarrant crying softly, Harvey spoke up.

"Tarrant, how long have you been feeling this way?"

Tarrant sniffled. "About two days. I watched a scary television show and it kept me up all night, thinking about it, and then I just started thinking of other things... about everything that happened. All I could think was that Stayne was going to come get me, that once he found out about... About this," He said, resting a hand on his stomach. "He'd come get me and torture me and kill me. I couldn't get it out of my mind."

Carlie frowned when she heard this, and gave her brother a kiss on the forehead. She didn't like knowing that he was suffering. "I promise I won't let that happen," She reassured him. "I'll always protect you."

Harvey rubbed his chin. "I think I need to go see Tarrant's medical records."

"Do you want me to go with you?" Mirana asked.

"Sure."

Mirana turned to Tarrant and Carlie. "Are you going to be okay for a few minutes?"

"We'll be fine," Carlie answered.

Tarrant nodded in agreement.

"We'll be right back, then."

Mirana and Harvey slipped out of the room and into the hallway, where they almost ran into Dr. Schnabel and Ashley. Both were rushing around, going in opposite directions.

"Is everything okay?" Harvey asked, wondering why they were so frantic.

"No... we're having a bit of a situation. Walk with me?" Ashley said.

Harvey and Mirana followed her into Schnabel's office, where the nurse proceeded to root around the drawers, pulling out various bottles of medication. "Mort fainted, Gilbert's still in a lot of pain, and Mr Todd's been throwing up for the past half hour," She explained. "This flu really caught us off guard."

Mirana and Harvey looked at each other, before Harvey turned back to Ashley.

"I could help you guys out for a little bit, if you wanted," He offered.

Ashley considered this for a moment. "Yes, I suppose that would be good. We can use all the extra hands we can get."

"May I see Tarrant's medical records, first, though? I can help your patients after that."

"Oh, sure," Ashley said. She began poking through the files on Schnabel's desk, eventually pulling out a manila folder labeled "Tarrant Hightopp". "You're his doctor back home, right?" She asked before handing it to him.

"Yes. I've treated him before."

"Alright, then," She replied, handing him the folder.

Harvey flipped through it while Ashley went back to searching for the medications she needed.

"I need to go help Mr. Todd," Ashley informed him. "Can you come find me when you're finished with Tarrant?"

"Yes. I'll catch up with you soon," Harvey said, continuing to thumb through the paperwork.

Once Ashley had left, Harvey looked up at Mirana. "I think I know what's wrong."

"And that is?"

"It's a combination of things. Let's go back to Tarrant's room, and I'll explain everything there."

00

When they got back to Tarrant's room, Mirana and Harvey found Tarrant, Alice, and Carlie all talking. Carlie was holding Tarrant's hand, or, rather, he was gripping her hand, seemingly afraid to entirely lose contact with her. The trio looked up at them when they walked into the room.

"Well, I think I know what the problem is," Harvey said as Mirana shut the door.

Everyone gave him their attention.

"I believe that Tarrant is suffering from a combination of mercury poisoning and PTSD."

"PTSD?" Carlie asked, not having heard of the term.

"Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. See, when the... incident... between Stayne and Tarrant took place, it was very traumatic for him. He hasn't been able to cope with it mentally, so it's stressing him out now, for lack of better words. The mercury poisoning is just compounding it."

"But... Tarrant hasn't made hats in a long time, right?" Carlie asked, looking at her brother for confirmation. He nodded in agreement.

"Didn't you bring him some fabric earlier?" Alice asked, "And you got it from his work room, right?"

"Oh...yes, I did," Carlie answered, worried that perhaps she'd somehow caused her brother's situation.

"It could've been exposed to the metal," Harvey said.

Carlie's face fell, "So...I gave my brother mercury poisoning."

"There's no way you could've known," Harvey replied, "Don't beat yourself up over it. Fabric usually isn't the cause of mercury poisoning, but the glue that is used to hold the hats together tends to be. It's not something that's readily obvious. And it probably wouldn't have hurt him if he wasn't pregnant. That's weakened his system a bit. Otherwise, your brother actually has a huge tolerance to it."

"Still...You know I'd never, ever intentionally hurt you, right Tarrant?"

Tarrant nodded. "I trust you. You didn't know... it's not your fault."

Carlie took a deep breath. "I feel terrible nonetheless."

"Unfortunately, that's really not going to help the situation," Harvey said bluntly. "What we really need to do is gather up the remaining fabric and either clean it thoroughly or get rid of it, and Tarrant has to start talking to someone about what happened between him and Stayne."

Suddenly Mirana paled, having thought of something. "I agree with you, love, but... it just hit me... is this going to harm Tarrant's baby at all?"

"It's a possibility. The most likely outcome would be neurological impairment."

Carlie looked like she was about to cry. "Oh, God, I'm so, so sorry," She said, looking again at Tarrant. He didn't seem as upset about it as she did, for some reason.

"What's done is done," was all he said. "I do not blame you and I'll love my child no matter what."

"It may also not have any effect," Harvey added. "It's just a possibility."

"I'm sure it's a rather strong one," Carlie replied.

Harvey sighed. "Well, yes. But let's not worry about that right now. Right now, let's clear out anything that might be tainted."

"Yes... okay," Carlie agreed, wiping away the tears that'd started to form in her eyes, "Tarrant, where did you put that bag I gave you?"

"It's by the side of the bed."

Carlie looked down and saw it, and picked it up. Two handmade outfits fell out. Both looked like there had been a lot of effort put in to making them.

"Did you make these for the baby?" She asked, holding a yellow onesie up.

"Yes... it made me feel better to create something," Tarrant answered.

Now Carlie felt even worse, taking away something that Tarrant enjoyed.

"I'll buy you as much fabric as you want," She promised. "From the store, so it's free from contaminants. You just tell me what you'd like and I will get it."

Tarrant's eyes seemed to light up a little bit. "That would be wonderful."

Carlie forced a smile at him. She handed the bag to Harvey, who carefully closed it up.

"I'm going to make sure we get rid of this. For now, though, I have to go help Dr. Schnabel and Ashley. There's a lot of people coming in with the flu. Are you all going to stay here?"

Everyone looked each other, before Carlie spoke up. "We'll stay with Tarrant for a while, until you're ready to leave."

"Alright. Come get me if you need anything. And try to get him to eat and drink something, he looks like he hasn't been getting enough food or water."

Carlie nodded. and looked her brother over. His face did seem thinner than the last time she'd seen him, and his eyes weren't as bright. "When's the last time you had anything to eat or drink?" She asked, feeling almost like she was trying to question a small child. Tarrant looked like his mind was wandering, as he seemed to be staring at something behind her.

"Huh?" He asked. He hadn't been listening.

"I asked you when was the last time you had anything to eat or drink. Harvey says that you need some food and water."

"Oh… I think I ate yesterday. Ashley brought me some food," He said, pointing at a tray that was balanced on his nightstand. Most of the food was still on it. Just then, Tarrant's stomach growled.

"Okay, we'll get you some food then," Carlie said, smirking at him.

Across the building, Harvey was starting out by looking Mort over. Much like Sweeney and Gilbert, the writer was in very bad shape. His skin was very pale in color, and he was sweating profusely. When Harvey tried to get Mort to focus, he was unable to do so.

Had he been in Underland, Harvey would've created a potion of some sort to help his patient, but he knew that that was not how things worked in Overland. Thankfully, he did have some understanding of how medical practices worked there. He knew for right now, Mort needed some painkillers and anti-nausea medication– the same treatments that Gilbert had gotten. It took him a little bit of time to find all he needed, but soon enough Mort had been hooked up with the drugs that would help him.

Harvey was just finishing up with Mort when there was a frantic knocking at the door. A young girl with beautiful features and blonde hair was standing there, looking very worried.

"Are you a new doctor?" She asked. "We need help."

Harvey nodded. "I'm here to help out. What's the problem?"

"My husband fainted. He's out in the car… I drove him here. The power's been out at our house for about 3 days now, and he was really sick last night and this morning."

"Okay, show me where the car is," Harvey replied, following the girl out. "I'm Harvey Montgomery, by the way."

"Johanna Hope. I'm Mr. Todd's daughter."

"I haven't met him yet."

"I'm sure you will. He's an interesting man. Okay, the truck's out back," She said, opening the front door. She began to jog towards it, and Harvey followed. They ran towards the back of the driveway. Harvey could see Anthony lying with his head pressed against the window, obviously unconscious.

With one hand, Harvey opened the door, then got ready to catch Anthony if he fell. Thankfully the boy had a seatbelt on and stayed in place.

"What's his name?" He asked Johanna.

"Anthony."

"Anthony, wake up," Harvey said, shaking Anthony's shoulders. Nothing. He gently smacked Anthony on the side of the face, and that caused a bit of a reaction. Anthony cracked his eyes open. Harvey immediately noticed that they were bloodshot.

"I'm Dr. Montgomery," Harvey said as he began unbuckling Anthony's seat belt. "I need to get you inside."

"What happened?"

"You fainted. Your wife brought me here. Can you stand?" Harvey asked, ready to help support Anthony if necessary.

"I think so…" Anthony answered. He stepped out of the car, and took two steps. However it proved to be too much, and he started to collapse. Harvey was there in an instant and caught him before he hit the ground.

"It's okay," Harvey said, lifting Anthony up. "I'll get you inside."

It took a few minutes and most of Harvey's strength, but he did indeed manage to carry Anthony inside. There was one more exam room free, and he brought the boy to it, laying him down on the exam table.

His first order of business was to check Anthony's temperature. It turned out to be 103.5. Very high. Then he took Anthony's pulse, which was strong and fast. "Okay, I'm going to give you a sedative and some fever reducers," Harvey explained. "Your body needs to rest. That's why you fainted. You couldn't take the stress. I'm also going to hook you up to an IV of saline."

Anthony nodded. "My head really hurts…"

"It's because you have the flu that's going around. A few others here have it as well."

"Ugh," Anthony sighed, suddenly feeling extremely sick. "I'm going to throw up."

Before Harvey could get out of the way, Anthony was leaning over the side of the table, and throwing up. Being the professional he was, Harvey said nothing, just stepped out of the way as fast as he could.

Anthony looked up when he was finished.

"I'm sorry…" He said softly.

"It's okay. You couldn't help it," Harvey said. "Besides, doctors always know to never wear good shoes to the office."

Anthony cracked half a smile. He reached out his hand, wanting Johanna to take it. Johanna took his hand and held it tightly.

After getting Anthony set up, Harvey went to find Schnabel and Ashley. He figured that one of them would likely be upstairs with this Mr. Todd they'd mentioned.

He was right. He found Dr. Schnabel in Sweeney's bedroom. Sweeney was still feeling very bad, and since he was pregnant there wasn't much that could be done to help besides giving him fever reducers and making sure that he stayed hydrated. Currently, Schnabel was trying to get him to drink some water. Sweeney was fighting him on it, of course.

"Come on, just drink a little bit, and I'll leave you alone," Dr. Schnabel tried to bargain.

"It's going to make me sick," Sweeney replied, paling at even the thought of putting something into his stomach.

"You need to drink it, though. Even if you throw it back up. It won't do for you to get too dehydrated."

Sweeney shook his head. "They barely gave me any food or water when I was in prison and pregnant with Johanna, and I was sick then too."

"With all due respect, Mr. Todd, you were much younger back then. Your body won't be able to take such punishment now."

"I'd have to agree," Harvey spoke up. "You're what, close to forty? You should really listen to Dr. Schnabel."

"And who the fuck are you?" Sweeney asked, annoyed at being double teamed by two doctors.

"Dr. Harvey Montgomery. I'm helping out for a little bit."

"Well, Dr. Montgomery, I'm fine, so I'll thank you both to leave me alone and let me recover."

"You're going to make me do this the hard way, aren't you," Dr. Schnabel said.

"You don't have to do anything! I'm going to get sick if I drink or eat anything, why is that so hard for you to understand?!" Sweeney yelled. Being sick had made him extremely cranky.

Dr. Schnabel sighed. "Alright, then. Harvey, can you go get me an IV line and a pole, please? Looks like we're going to have to hook Mr. Todd up to some saline."

Sweeney shook his head, picked up a pillow, and weakly threw it at Dr. Schnabel. "Just leave me alone!"

Schnabel completely ignored him, though. "And get Mr. Dumbass here a mild sedative, too."

"MY NAME IS SWEENEY TODD, NOT 'MR. DUMBASSS', AND I WILL NOT TAKE YOUR IV OR YOUR SEDATIVES!" Sweeney yelled, now feeling even more frustrated. "FUCK! Why do you insist on treating me like a child?!"

"Because you're acting like one. While you're living in my shelter, getting medical care that I provide and eating food that I buy, you'll follow my rules. I don't need you losing the baby or going into a coma or… worse… just because you won't drink a glass of water. So, either shut up and drink it, or I'll just sedate you and force it into you. The choice is yours."

Sweeney's mouth dropped open. Usually Dr. Schnabel was never that direct or harsh with his statements. Sweeney was used to having everyone put up with everything in general. The fact that Dr. Schnabel had actually confronted him, to an extent, made him nervous.

"I.. um.." Sweeney started. "Okay. Just give me the water. It's not my fault if I throw up, though!"

Dr. Schnabel handed Sweeney a glass of water, watching as the barber drank it down.

"How do you feel now?" Harvey asked, when Sweeney was finished.

"Sick."

Seeing Sweeney's face turn slightly green, Harvey reached for a wastebasket and handed it to him. It seemed like this flu was making everyone throw up.

Sweeney held the basket for a moment, leaning over it and dry heaving, but nothing came up. Eventually, he put the basket down, and lay back on the bed, sweating and panting.

"It's a good sign that you're able to keep the water down," Harvey said. "It means your body is recovering to an extent."

"I still feel horrible," Sweeney groaned, resting a hand on his stomach. "And the baby won't stop kicking my kidney."

Harvey put his hand on Sweeney's forehead. Since Harvey's hand was cold, and Sweeney was so hot, it felt good and he leaned into the doctor's touch.

"I'm going to get you an ice pack," Harvey said. "You're still really hot."

"Good idea," Schnabel agreed. "He should take another dose of Tylenol as well. Can you handle him from here?"

"I can hear you, you know," Sweeney said. "You don't have to talk about me like I'm not here."

"Sorry," Schnabel answered.

"I'll be fine. Go check on everyone else."

00

Schnabel and Harvey ended up trudging down the stairs together, towards their separate destinations. Harvey gathered up an ice pack and Tylenol for Sweeney, and made his way back up to his room. He was surprised to see that Sweeney was already half asleep. He also seemed to be holding something, that was half hidden under the covers.

Upon closer inspection, Harvey could see that it looked like a stuffed animal.

"Mr. Todd, you need to wake up and take your medicine," Harvey said, softly.

Sweeney stirred a little. "Sorry… I'm so tired…" He then noticed that he was holding the thing, and quickly moved to hide it under the covers.

"Is that your stuffed animal? You don't have to be embarrassed," Harvey said, smiling. "I won't judge you."

Sweeney considered this momentarily, before slowly bringing the stuff animal out. It looked like a cat that had been much loved. One of its eyes was missing and its fake fur was matted against it.

"No one knows I still have this," Sweeney said, opening his hand so that Harvey could give him the pills. "I'd appreciate it if they didn't find out."

"I'm not going to tell. Have you had that for a while, then?"

Sweeney blushed a little. "Since I was a little boy. His name is Finn. Sometimes… When I get nervous, it helps to have something to hold."

"There's nothing wrong with that, Mr. Todd."

"Yes there is. Grown men shouldn't be reliant on this stuff to get through the night," Sweeney replied bitterly. "I'm just weird is all. I had him when I was in Australia, too. The guards never found him."

"Everyone needs something that makes them feel comfortable. If having Finn near you helps you relax then you shouldn't be ashamed." Harvey proceeded to lay the ice pack on Sweeney's forehead as he spoke.

Sweeney sighed contentedly as he felt the cold of it against his overheated skin.

"Just relax, Mr. Todd. If you don't need anything else, then I'm going to go check on the other patients. One of us will be back up in a little while to check on you."

Sweeney yawned. "Okay… I'm going to sleep."

Harvey closed the door quietly behind him as he left.


	47. Chapter 47

******A/N: Phish Tacko beta'd this. Go check out her page, she's an awesome author!**

**Chapter 47**

The next few days felt like they were very long. Everyone remained sick, and besides taking care of Gilbert, Anthony, Sweeney and Mort, Ichabod had showed up as well. He, too, had been diagnosed with the flu.

Harvey had decided to stay at the shelter for two days, but eventually he had to go back to Underland. He had duties to perform there, as well. Schnabel and Ashley were then left to care for everyone themselves.

Three days in, all but Ichabod and Anthony had begun to recover. Anthony still had a high fever, and Ichabod was very exhausted, and sleeping most of the day. When he wasn't sleeping, he was either throwing up or experiencing hot flashes.

Johanna had stayed at Anthony's side throughout the time he was there, barely ever leaving except to return home to feed Marmalade. She had even gotten a chair to sleep in so she could be near Anthony during the night, in case he needed anything. Becky had been the same way, though she'd had a bit more responsibility in that she also had to care for Tommy.

Katrina, on the other hand, had only visited a few times, and it seemed to hurt Ichabod that she hadn't come around that often. Her excuse was that she didn't want to get sick, nor did she want Jackson to get sick, but still, he felt that she could've come by for more than five minutes.

Tarrant was acting a little bit more normal. Well, at least, as normal as he could be. Carlie had stayed with him for a few days, making sure that he slept and ate and talked about his feelings whenever he felt upset. The result was that he seemed happier overall. She'd even gone out and bought him some new fabric, and had worked on cleaning up the outfits that he'd created, so that they weren't contaminated with the mercury anymore.

Anthony's fever finally broke five days in. By that time, Ichabod was also starting to recover. Dr. Schnabel had planned to keep both of them there for another day, though, to make sure that they were truly all right before going back home.

Since he was feeling better, Anthony found himself getting increasingly bored, especially when Johanna went home to feed Marmalade. Eventually he decided to visit Sweeney, and see how he was doing.

Anthony dragged himself up the stairs in the afternoon, when he knew that Sweeney would be awake. He didn't bother to knock when he got to his friend's room. Sweeney was usually busy playing on his laptop, anyway. So, Anthony opened the door to receive quite a shock. Sweeney was lying on the bed, on his side, wearing only a set of sweats. His large stomach was fully exposed, and Anthony could see the little red stretch marks dotting his skin, because of the amount of weight he'd gained. His sweats were stretched too tight – obviously Sweeney hadn't bought many new clothes in the past eight months, and his hair was splayed in all directions. The barber had his netbook open in front of him, but it really didn't hide much.

Sweeney was very surprised when he heard the door open, but wasn't fast enough to pull the covers up over himself. Instead, he just sat there awkwardly, staring at Anthony as Anthony stared back at him.

The younger man really didn't know what to say. His friend looked pretty terrible, and was probably feeling as embarrassed as he was for walking in on him. Sweeney was tough on the outside, but Anthony knew that deep inside he was often self-conscious.

Thankfully, Sweeney broke the ice.

"Anthony," He started, cracking a smile.

"Yes, Mr. Todd?"

"Draw me like one of your French girls."

It took a moment for Anthony to register what Sweeney had just said, but when he did, he burst out laughing. This, in turn, caused Sweeney to laugh.

The two sat there for a few minutes, laughing their asses off. Finally, Anthony tried to compose himself.

"That's great, Mr. Todd. Seriously, though, do you want me to get you a shirt?"

"Shirt me," Sweeney replied.

Anthony nodded, and walked towards Sweeney's dresser, pulling out the biggest shirt he could find. He threw it at the barber, looking away as he pulled it on.

"Do you always, um, hang out like that?" Anthony asked, when Sweeney was fully dressed. "Like, does Ashley ever catch you?"

"No. Well, once... I mean, you have to understand, it's August, and it's really hot up here, and nothing really fits right so-"

"I was just kidding," Anthony said, cutting him off. "You don't need to explain. How are you feeling?"

Sweeney sighed. "Better. Not throwing up and sweating all day, at least, but this kid is killing me. Hopefully she'll make an appearance soon."

"Aren't you due soon?"

"Another month. Another really long month..." He trailed off, seemingly lost in his thoughts.

"It'll be here sooner than you know it, Mr. Todd," Anthony said softly. Even though he was doing a lot better mentally, he couldn't help but wish that he was in Sweeney's place to an extent – that his children were still alive inside of him. He didn't voice this, though. Instead he opted to move on to a happier subject.

"So... are you excited about the reunion?"

"I guess it'll be nice to see everyone again. Is everyone who was here recovered, for the most part?"

"Everyone except Ichabod. He's not as bad as he was, but he's still got a low fever. Katrina hasn't visited him in quite some time."

"That's kinda sad."

"I guess so. She's crazier than a shithouse rat, if you ask me."

"No shit, Sherlock. I was surprised that she didn't beat the shit out of Angelica at your wedding."

"I think she knew I had pepper spray. Remember that time I had to spray them both, because they kept tearing each other's hair out?" Anthony asked, laughing at the memory.

Once again, Sweeney burst out laughing. "Yeah, Angelica tore Katrina's weave right out. Man, that was great. It looked like a blonde rat on the floor."

There was more laughing before Anthony paused. "We're really horrible to be laughing at this, aren't we?"

Sweeney grinned. "Well, I won't tell if you won't."


	48. Chapter 48

******A/N: Phish Tacko beta'd this. Go check out her page, she's an awesome author!**

**Chapter 48**

The weather was perfect on the day of the reunion. It was sunny, warm, and there was not a cloud in the sky.

Everyone seemed to be enjoying it except for Sweeney and Tarrant. Sweeney mainly felt hot and sweaty. He'd used the term 'beached whale' a few times, too, in reference to how he probably looked lying out by the side of the pool. Tarrant wasn't particularly happy, either, but he had an umbrella and seemed to be keeping somewhat cool using that.

Jack and Angelica were in the pool, with Angela. The baby was wearing little pink floaties and seemed to like the water a lot. Sam and Joon were also in the water, with Esther, Vincent, and Vivienne. The kids were also wearing little life preservers. All of them except for Vincent seemed to be having a good time. Rather, the little boy was screaming hysterically. Eventually, Gilbert came over and picked Vincent up, and took him to sit near Edward. As soon as Vincent caught sight of his daddy, he quieted down.

Rae and Anakin were busy crawling around the yard. Mort was attempting to keep them away from the edge of the pool, while Wonka was attempting to keep them from getting dirty. The latter attempt failed, though, as Rae soon found a small puddle of mud and proceeded to play in it, and fling it at everyone near her.

While Mort and Wonka were getting covered in mud, Becky, Johanna, and Katrina were talking amongst themselves. Becky had Tommy, and Katrina had Jackson. For some reason, Katrina was being nice today, which made it much easier for the other two women to speak to her.

Finally, Ichabod and Anthony were sitting on the side of the pool, kicking their feet in the water.

No one paid much attention when Sweeney got up from his lounge chair to get something to drink. He'd put his black flip flops on and was walking around the pool when he slid on a puddle of water. There was a loud splash, followed by a shriek. Everyone stopped talking and looked over.

Sweeney was in the deep end of the pool, flailing wildly and yelling at the top of his lungs for someone to help.

Anthony's first reaction was to jump in. He was a good swimmer and he knew that he could probably get Sweeney out of the water, if the older man didn't fight him too much. He swam as fast as he could to Sweeney, and attempted to wrap an arm around him. Unfortunately, Sweeney was too freaked out to think clearly, and began to push Anthony off of him.

Since Sweeney outweighed Anthony by a good thirty or forty pounds, the sailor had a hard time trying to fight back.

"Mr. Todd! Calm down!" He yelled, trying to grab onto Sweeney's arm. "I'm trying to pull you out!"

Still, there was more splashing. Seeing that Anthony was having little luck, Jack swam over to the scene.

"Mr. Todd! STOP FLAILING!" Jack yelled. "WE'RE GOING TO PULL YOU OUT OF THE POOL!"

This time, Sweeney seemed to react, and started to relax. Quickly, Jack wrapped an arm around Sweeney's upper chest, and swam him over to the side of the pool, Anthony following right behind.

"Alright, let's get ya out of the water," Jack said, reaching for the ladder on the wall. Sweeney clung to him even harder, as if afraid that Jack was going to leave him there.

"Hold on to the ladder," Jack instructed. "I'm going to get out of the pool, then I'm going to help you out."

Anthony swam over, and guided Sweeney to the ladder while Jack climbed out.

"Okay, now climb up."

By now, a small crowd had gathered around. Becky was there, holding a large towel for Sweeney, while everyone else watched with curiosity.

Sweeney looked at the ladder, then looked at Jack, then at Anthony.

"I don't think I can," He mumbled, under his breath.

"Why not? It's only four steps," Jack replied.

Sweeney's face turned bright red as he blushed in embarrassment. "I can't pull myself up."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Really? I mean, the water should make it so that you're lighter… ah, never mind." He went back into the pool and swam over to Sweeney. "Grab onto me and I'll get you out near the stairs."

Sweeney frowned, but grabbed onto Jack, and the pirate swam them both over. He helped Sweeney stand, as the water was shallower near the stairs. "Okay, here we go," Jack said. He reached down, and scooped Sweeney up, and carried him bridal style up the steps and then set him down on the ground. Becky rushed over with her towel and wrapped it around Sweeney.

"I might've been able to go up the steps, y'know," Sweeney mumbled.

Becky just shook her head.

Sweeney blushed again. "Right… sorry, Jack. Thanks." He wouldn't make eye contact with the pirate though, as he still felt extremely embarrassed at having to be saved from the pool.

"Anthony would've gotten you out had I not been there, you should thank him too," Jack said, looking at Anthony, who was climbing out of the pool.

"Thanks…" Sweeney said, still not looking at either one of them.

"Why don't you go take a seat and warm up in the sun?" Becky suggested, wrapping an arm around Sweeney's shoulders. She led him to a lounge chair, one that he couldn't help but notice was quite far away from the pool.


	49. Chapter 49

******A/N: Phish Tacko beta'd this. Go check out her page, she's an awesome author!**

**Chapter 49**

Ever since Tarrant had had his 'episode', Mirana, Alice, and Carlie had been spending more and more time at the shelter with him. He was getting particularly close to Alice, they all noticed. The two would sit together and talk while Mirana and Carlie discussed royal business together. Alice seemed to be very supportive of Tarrant, and he wondered if perhaps she would accept both him and his child. He didn't know how to ask about this, though, at least not without starting an awkward conversation. One day, Alice spoke up, and her simple statement said volumes.

The pair were in Tarrant's room, along with Carlie and Mirana. Carlie and Mirana were talking to each other as usual, and Alice and Tarrant had been discussing what would occur when Tarrant had the baby, and went back to Underland. There hadn't really been a plan put in place for that just yet.

"I guess I'll just hope that no one asks about it, and that the Red Queen doesn't find out," Tarrant replied, biting his lip nervously. Just the mere thought of what she, or Stayne, might do made him uneasy. He began fiddling with the fabric on his comforter, using up some of his nervous energy.

"I suppose you could say it's my child," Alice offered. "I could stay with you."

Tarrant's eyes got wide. He hadn't been expecting that, and he was very surprised by how nonchalant Alice was about it.

"I mean, people might just say you got me pregnant and we went away together," She continued.

"I can't ask you to do that," Tarrant answered. "That's a large burden for you."

"Not really. I've always liked children. We could raise her together. That is… If you wanted to."

Tarrant's eyes changed from dark to light almost instantly. His heart was beating at a hundred miles an hour. He could barely believe what he was hearing. The woman that he was in love with was offering to live with him, and help him take care of his… or would it be _their_ daughter?

"I… of course I would love that, Alice!" Tarrant finally said. "I've had feelings for you for quite a while now. I never thought you'd reciprocate… Oh, this is the best day ever!"

Alice smiled and leaned in to give Tarrant a kiss. "Well I'm glad it's settled then."

Tarrant grinned and kissed her on the lips.

Suddenly, someone across the room coughed. It was Carlie.

"While it's great that you two are taking your relationship a step further, perhaps you could save the kissing for a private time?" She asked, smirking.

Both Tarrant and Alice blushed and nodded. "We're sorry!" They both said at once.

00

Early the next morning, at Anthony and Johanna's apartment, both were awake, watching television. They usually stayed up late on Friday evenings and watched the 90's cartoons that Nickelodeon would show. The two were lying on their couch, Marmalade sitting in between them, when Anthony's phone suddenly rang. It was Sweeney.

"What does he want?" Johanna asked. "It's three AM."

"I dunno," Anthony answered, flipping his phone open. "Hopefully it's nothing bad. Hello?"

"Anthony. Can you and Johanna come over?" Sweeney asked, sounding very out of breath.

"It's three in the morning, Mr. Todd. Why do we need to go there?"

Sweeney took a deep breath. "I think something's wrong."

"Why?"

"I've been having a sharp pain on and off for about an hour now..." Sweeney explained. "It keeps coming and going."

"You could be having contractions. You need to call the doctor or Ashley. We'll be right over."

"But I'm only at thirty six weeks!" Sweeney protested. "Something else must be wrong."

"Sometimes people go into labor a bit early. You're pretty much full term. Get off the phone and call Ashley! We'll be there soon."

Anthony hung up before Sweeney could get another word in.

"What was that about?" Johanna asked, concerned.

"I think you're dad's going into labor. He wants us to come over."

"Oh... Yeah, we should go," Johanna said. "I'll drive."

The couple made it to the shelter in record time, and walked into the common room to hear Sweeney cursing and screaming at the top of his lungs. Even though he was on the second floor, his voice was loud. Mort and Tarrant had come out of their rooms, unable to sleep through the noise. Neither seemed surprised to see Anthony and Johanna.

"Thank goodness you're here," Tarrant said. "Mr. Todd's been yelling for close to an hour now!"

"He's upstairs still?" Anthony asked.

"Yep. Ashley and Dr. Schnabel are with him."

"Great, thanks," Anthony said. He and Johanna then ran up the stairs, following the screaming until they got to a delivery room down the hall from Sweeney's room.

As Tarrant had said, Ashley and Dr. Schnabel were both inside, looking very tired. Sweeney was on a bed, wearing a hospital gown and looking like he was in pure agony.

"Mr. Todd!" Anthony said, as he and Johanna walked towards Sweeney's bed.

"Dad, are you okay?" Johanna asked, taking her dad's hand.

"It fucking hurts!" Sweeney hissed.

Ashley rolled her eyes. "He's not even dilated yet. You still have a while to go, Mr. Todd. If you calm down you'll feel a little better. Getting angry isn't helping."

"I'M ONLY ANGRY BECAUSE I'M IN PAIN AND YOU'RE NOT HELPING ME!" Sweeney yelled. "WHAT DOES A MAN HAVE TO DO TO GET SOME PAIN MEDICATION AROUND HERE?!"

"We can't give you an epidural until you're closer to delivery," Ashley explained calmly. "For now, you'll just have to cope."

Sweeney looked furious. Johanna frowned, and held his hand a little tighter.

"Dad, maybe she's right, maybe you should try to calm down."

"Yeah, Mr. Todd. You've been through this before, you know what to expect," Anthony added.

Sweeney actually seemed to consider this, and his features softened.

"It just really hurts, is all," He said quietly.

"Well, it'll be over soon enough, and you'll have a new daughter to love," Anthony replied.

Sweeney sighed. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

00

Unfortunately for Sweeney, Anthony was wrong. Ten hours later, he still wasn't officially in labor. The contractions were still coming, and his water had broken, but that was about it.

Anthony and Johanna were still there, having stayed by Sweeney's side throughout the morning and early afternoon.

"Still not dilating," Ashley said as she finished her latest exam.

"How much longer do I have to wait?!" Sweeney asked. He was starting to become angry again.

"It'll happen when your body is ready for it to happen, Mr. Todd. You're still a few weeks early. You may as well get used to the idea of being here for a while."

Sweeney sighed and let his head fall back on the pillows. "Damn it. Well... Can I get some food?"

"I'll get you something," Johanna volunteered.

"Could I have a sandwich?"

"Okay..."

"And a coke, too?"

"You know the rules. No caffeine," Ashley said.

"Dang." Sweeney closed his eyes.

"Okay, can you stop acting like a child now?" Ashley asked.

"I want this baby out of me. I'll stop acting like a child when this is over."

Johanna shook her head, somewhat embarrassed by her father's attitude. "Dad... can you stop now?"

Seeing the look on his daughter's face, Sweeney frowned, and mumbled an apology. He just wanted this baby to come soon.

00

It wasn't until seven that night that Sweeney even started dilating and even that was going slow.

Anthony and Johanna were still there, trying to force themselves to stay awake, despite getting no sleep the night prior.

Mort and Tarrant had come to visit a few times, bringing water or coffee for the couple, or just to say hi and see how Sweeney was doing. Ashley and Dr. Schnabel had been in and out, too, giving Sweeney exams and trying to keep him calm.

The time to push came around one in the morning. Ashley coached him through it as best she could, but it didn't seem like the baby was ready to come. After only half an hour of pushing, Sweeney was exhausted. Dr. Schnabel had given him an epidural earlier, but the actual work of trying to push the baby out was hard on his body.

Seeing that obviously it still wasn't time for the baby to come, the doctor told Sweeney to rest, and decided that he would only have to try to push every ten minutes or so. After one particularly hard push, the door to the room swung open, and Mrs. Lovett stepped in.

"Mr. T!" She exclaimed, walking over to his bed. "Are you okay? Where's the baby?"

"Nellie? You're finally just coming, now? I haven't had the baby yet... obviously..." He said, looking down at his stomach.

"I know, I'm sorry, I just got your message an hour ago. Anthony messaged me as well. You've been in labor since this morning?"

"Since right after I called you."

"You poor man, Mr. T! It's been hours, then!"

"Almost an entire day, actually."

"Um, I hate to interrupt this conversation," Dr. Schnabel said, looking at Sweeney and Mrs. Lovett. "But it's time for Mr. Todd to push again."

Sweeney couldn't help but scowl, but he did as the doctor told him. Johanna took her father's hand, and he held it tightly as he pushed, trying not to scream. The baby still wasn't coming.

"Still no luck... sorry, Mr. Todd," Dr. Schnabel said.

"Can't you just take it out? Cut me open or something?!" Sweeney asked, frustrated.

"Aw, you don't want that, Mr. T! Having the baby naturally is the best way!" Mrs. Lovett said, smiling at him.

"At this point, I think it's better to just wait it out, let your body do what it's supposed to do," Dr. Schnabel agreed. "If the baby still hasn't come by daybreak, we'll consider a c-section."

"That's hours away!" Sweeney groaned. "You mean to tell me that I have to do this for another few hours?!"

"Well..." Dr. Schnabel started, but he was cut off by Sweeney, who was cringing.

"I think...I think it just moved..." He grunted, clenching his eyes shut. "Fuck. Is that bad?"

"Let me see."

Everyone looked away while Dr. Schnabel did a quick exam.

"She's moved into the birth canal. She'll be here soon. I can see the top of her head. You need to push again."

Holding both Johanna and Mrs. Lovett's hands as tight as he could, Sweeney pushed again. He could feel the baby coming, now. It didn't really hurt, but felt more like pressure. He was sweating, now, and was starting to feel weaker. This was taking a lot out of him.

"Ok, again," Dr. Schnabel directed.

"Ugh," Sweeney sighed. It took most his strength to push again. He could feel the baby move down even further.

"Okay... she's coming, you need to push one more time."

Sweeney frowned, and used the rest of his energy to push. Then, in an instant, he could feel the baby slip out. He glanced down, only to see blood everywhere and Dr. Schnabel picking the baby up.

"That's a lot of blood," Johanna said.

"It really is," Sweeney added, looking extremely pale.

The baby started crying just then, drawing everyone's attention away from Sweeney. Schnabel had begun cleaning the girl off, as Ashley cut the umbilical cord. Only a few minutes later, the doctor handed the infant to Sweeney. She was wrapped in a little pink blanket. Amazingly, the second that Sweeney took her into his arms, he felt nearly all of his discomfort and fatigue melt away.

"She's gorgeous," He said, watching as she grasped on to one of his fingers.

"She loves you already!" Johanna said excitedly. "My little sister. She's so pretty!"

Sweeney nodded.

"She's perfect, Mr. T!" Mrs. Lovett said. "She's beautiful."

"Have you thought of a name?" Anthony asked.

"Wait a sec," Sweeney said. "One person at a time. Yes, she's beautiful, and her name is Emma."

"Well, Emma," Johanna said, looking at the baby. "Welcome to the world!"


	50. Chapter 50

******A/N: Phish Tacko beta'd this. Go check out her page, she's an awesome author!**

**Chapter 50**

It wasn't long before Sweeney left the shelter and went back to his shop. Mrs. Lovett had spent some time working on it to make it homier, so it was a nicer place for Sweeney to raise Emma. By the time she was through, the place was clean and contained many brightly colored items, like bright green curtains, much to Sweeney's dismay. He liked his dark, dank little room, but he did agree that perhaps it wasn't best to raise Emma in that environment, so he ended up keeping everything in place.

Tarrant and Mort were the only ones left at the shelter, and Mort seemed to be making plans to move out soon, now that he was back on his feet. Tarrant, in the meantime, had been spending a lot of time with Alice, who came to visit him several times each week.

One day, she, Carlie, and Mirana came to the shelter to find Tarrant very upset. He looked nervous, and almost like he was about to cry.

Alice immediately became concerned.

"What's wrong, love?" She asked, taking a seat next to Tarrant. Mirana and Carlie sat across from him.

Tarrant said nothing, but held up a playing card. It was the Queen of Hearts.

"I found this under my door this morning," He whispered, eyes filling with tears. "She knows. The Red Queen knows. It's a message from her. She's going to kill me, or she'll have Stayne do it."

Carlie and Alice were shocked, but Mirana didn't seem surprised.

"Well, I've assumed that this could happen, and Harvey and I have planned for it. Neither of us wanted to mention it because we didn't want to upset you, but please know that you'll have full protection. I'll send two of my guards to Overland tonight, to ensure that no one gets in."

"I'll stay here too," Alice said, taking Tarrant's hand. She noticed that it was shaking.

"I will too," Carlie added. "Consider me a third guard."

"You don't need to..." Tarrant protested, albeit weakly.

"Yes we do. We're not going to let anyone get to you, little brother. I'll take them out with my own two hands if necessary."

Alice nodded in agreement. "Don't under estimate me, either. I will never let anyone put their hands on you."

Tarrant seemed to calm a bit. "Alright... thank you."

"Of course," His three friends said at once.

"Other than that... how have you been?" Mirana asked, changing the subject. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired. Fat. The baby started kicking me, and I have weird cravings," Tarrant said. "But I'm not throwing up most days anymore."

"That's... good, then," Mirana replied.

"Oh!" Tarrant yelped, resting his other hand on his stomach.

"Are you okay?" Carlie asked.

"She kicked again. Want to feel?"

Carlie nodded eagerly, and placed her hand on Tarrant's stomach. She could feel the baby kicking him. "That's amazing..."

"Mirana, you can feel it too, if you like."

Carlie moved out of the way, and let Mirana in. She had a similar reaction to Carlie.

"She'll be here before you know it! Alice, have you felt this?"

Alice smiled. "Tarrant let me feel it when she first started, a few weeks ago. It's wonderful to feel our daughter in there, alive and well."

"Have you thought of any names?" Mirana questioned.

Alice and Tarrant looked at each other.

"Actually... yes," Tarrant answered. "We have. Would you like to tell them, dear?"

Alice nodded. "We're going to name her Daisy Carlie Mirana Hightopp. Carlie and Mirana being her middle names, of course."

Both Carlie and Mirana smiled from ear to ear.

"Thank you!" Carlie said, pulling Tarrant into a hug, and planting a kiss on his cheek.

"This is such an honor," came Mirana's reply. She, too, gave Tarrant a hug. "But why the name Daisy? Not that it's not nice, it's just a bit different."

"We both like daisy flowers. They make us happy, and she'll make us happy, so it just seemed to work," Alice said.

"Very nice, beautiful name."

A minute later, Tarrant yawned. Even though it was only seven at night, he was tired. Being pregnant took a lot of his energy, not to mention the fact that he had been upset most of the day.

"Why don't you sleep a bit, love?" Alice suggested. "We'll stay here a while and Carlie and I will stay overnight, so you can be safe."

"Sounds like a good idea," Tarrant replied, yawning again. "This baby makes me so tired."

Alice got up, and started pulling the covers on the bed back so that Tarrant could lie down. He crawled under the blankets, curling up as Alice pulled them back up over him, tucking him in.

"Go to sleep," Alice whispered, rubbing Tarrant's back gently.

"Mm-hm. Sleep," He answered softly. "And you'll be here."

"We'll be here."

"Okay, then. Sleep it is."

00

True to her word, Mirana sent two guards into overland and to the shelter later that evening. They were big, muscular men who didn't seem to be afraid to fight, if it became necessary. Carlie and Alice ended up greeting them, as Tarrant continued to sleep. Alice could tell that he was very worn out, and didn't want to disturb him. He needed all the rest he could get, especially if the Red Queen was going to cause problems.

Once the guards were situated, Carlie and Alice got to talking quietly.

"So, have you and Tarrant discussed your future together? Besides you moving in with him, I mean."

"You mean, marriage?" Alice clarified.

"Well... yes."

"I was considering asking him after the baby came. I've given it some consideration, and I think we'd be quite happy being married... but with all of this drama going on, with the Red Queen and Stayne... and Tarrant being pregnant, I just think we should wait a few months."

"That seems fair," Carlie said, "I'm glad to hear that you're willing to take the next step with him."

"I love him. He makes my life better."

"I think he feels the same way about you."

00

Alice and Carlie fell asleep around midnight, with the guards still keeping watch outside. Both women slept on the floor, next to Tarrant's bed. Tarrant never even stirred.

Sometime in the early morning hours, Alice awoke to the sound of clinking metal. She knew that sound. It was Stayne, his armor clinking against the wooden floor of the hallway.

Quickly, she shook Carlie awake, putting her hand over her mouth to keep her quiet.

"Stayne's outside," She mouthed to her friend.

Carlie's eyes got wide and she stood up, ready to fight.

"Hide Tarrant," She mouthed back.

Alice nodded in agreement and stood. She woke Tarrant up in much the same way that she woke Carlie up.

"Come with me," She whispered.

Tarrant seemed confused. "Why?"

Suddenly, from outside, there came sounds of a struggle. The guards were obviously fighting Stayne off. His voice echoed through the room, as he called out for Tarrant, threatening to kill him as he battled the two men. The three could also hear Dr. Schnabel's voice ringing out among the chaos, yelling something about calling the cops.

"Stayne's here," Alice said as she pulled Tarrant out of bed. "You need to hide in the closet." She swung open the closet door, and pointed inside. "Get in."

Tarrant did as he was told, and crawled into the closet, a terrified look on his face. "Stay with me!" He begged.

"I need to fight. Stay quiet," Alice said. "I love you."

With that, she closed the door, and locked it. She was sure that Tarrant was crying silently inside– his eyes had been tear-filled when she'd locked him in– and the thought of it broke her heart, but she knew that she had to help Carlie fight Stayne off if he got in the room.

From the sounds of it, the guards were having a hard time taking the knave down. The door started shaking... Stayne was hitting it, most likely, and a second later, it burst open. The two guards were holding onto Stayne, still trying to subdue him, but he was slowly getting out of their grasp.

Carlie moved her stance, putting one foot behind to steady herself and lean on, making it harder for Stayne to knock her down if he tried. Alice also got into fighting position, taking on a more western fighting style.

"WHERE IS HE?!" Stayne yelled, as he pushed the guards off of him and onto the ground. He began charging towards Carlie, seemingly unafraid of her. "TELL ME WHERE HE IS!"

Carlie shook her head. "No way are you getting to him!"

Stayne shook his head and laughed. "Are you really going to take me on? Come on. He's not worth it. Just tell me where he is, and I promise not to kill you."

"Nope. Not happening."

Stayne sighed, and shoved Carlie. He was surprised when she didn't budge, but instead, pushed back, throwing him down. He got back up quickly, and swung at Carlie's chin. She grabbed his fist mid-air, and began crushing his fingers in between hers.

"Fuck!" He yelled. "Let go!"

He kicked at her, nailing her in the shin a few times. The metal hitting her skin hurt and Carlie grunted in pain, but continued to hold onto Stayne's fist. When he kicked her a third time, she used her other hand to punch him in the face. The force behind her punch stunned him, and he once again fell back on the ground. Quickly, Carlie took advantage of his position and stepped one foot onto his chest, holding him down.

"I swear by my pretty pink toenails, I will end you!" She hissed at him.

Stayne's one eye seemed to fill with fear.

Alice then spoke up. "The police are outside. Send him out."

Carlie nodded, and looked down at Stayne. "Get up."

Before he could move on his own, Carlie reached down and pulled the man up, turning him so that both of his hands were behind his back.

"Walk," She commanded, shoving him out the door.

She lead him down the hallway, and out the front door, where several cop cars and officers with their weapons drawn were waiting.

"Here you go," She said, shoving Stayne into one of the officer's arms. "Take him away."

00

Despite the fact that Stayne was gone, Tarrant was awake for the rest of the night, shaking in Alice's arms. He was relieved that Carlie had taken care of his rapist, but also still upset that she and Alice could've gotten hurt. It'd taken hours of reassurance from Alice and Carlie that everything was okay and that everyone was fine before Tarrant finally fell asleep around dawn.

Even in his dreams, Tarrant was haunted by the idea that his loved ones could've died. Alice could see him twitching as he slept, obviously having some nightmare. She and Carlie considered waking him up, but decided to wait it out for a bit, and see if Tarrant snapped out of it himself. Some sleep, even if it was nightmare filled, was better than no sleep, and Tarrant needed rest.

Sometime around mid-morning, Alice and Carlie fell asleep as well. They were exhausted and just couldn't keep their eyes open.

They were only asleep for a few hours when there was a loud THUD as the door to the room slammed open, rather loudly. All three of the people inside opened their eyes instantly, wondering what was going on.

The loud noise startled Tarrant, who instantly began crying. Alice wrapped an arm around him, trying to comfort him, as the sound had only come from Mort, who was standing in the doorway. His eyes were half open, but he appeared to be asleep, and was mumbling things under his breath.

Carlie could hear some of it. Something about Luke Skywalker, sand people, and Doritos. Before she could get up to guide him out, he began walking into the room, stopping only when he got to the desk near Tarrant's bed.

"What're you doing?" Carlie asked, noticing that Tarrant had not yet stopped crying, even though it was clear that it was only Mort in the room. Alice was still holding him, trying to calm him.

"Moving the desk," Mort replied nonchalantly.

"Um, it's fine where it is," Carlie said. "Why don't you go back up to bed?"

"Bed..." Mort repeated, still staring at the desk.

"Go to bed," Carlie told him again. "You'll be happier there."

"Cats..." Mort replied, eyes closing a little further.

"Right. I'll lead you to your room," Carlie said, getting up.

"I'm gonna fall," Mort sighed before falling forward as he fell completely asleep. Carlie got up just in time to catch him before he hit the ground. She sighed, and turned Mort around so that she could lift him up, bridal style.

"I'll be right back," She told Alice and Tarrant. "I'm going to take him back to his room."

"Okay," Alice said, giving Tarrant a kiss on the forehead.

Carlie had gotten halfway down the hallway, holding Mort, when she was stopped by Ashley.

"Oh, thank goodness you found him," The nurse said, looking extremely relieved. "I was so nervous he'd gotten out again!"

"Gotten out?" Carlie asked, confused.

"Oh, yeah, he has problems with sleepwalking. He's gotten into his car before. Thankfully he's only just sat there, but we never know if he'll try to drive off."

"Wow. He was trying to move Tarrant's desk just now."

"Yep, that sounds like Mort," Ashley said, smiling. "Do you mind putting him back to bed?"

Carlie shook her head. "I was just heading there now."

"Thank you!"

"No problem," Carlie said as she began walking down the hall again. When she found Mort's room, she took the time to tuck him back into bed and tuck the blankets around him. He snuggled into the comforter as she did so, and it made her smile. Mort was a little odd, but he could be adorable at times.

Quietly, she closed the door to the room, and headed back to see her brother. She was sad to see that he was still crying when she came in, and quickly moved to help Alice once again calm him down.


	51. Chapter 51

******A/N: Phish Tacko beta'd this. Go check out her page, she's an awesome author!**

**Chapter 51**

Alice and Carlie stayed with Tarrant for the rest of the day, and that evening, Mirana and Harvey came by. By this point, Mort was wide awake, and was watching Star Wars with Anakin in the common room. Hearing the movie, Alice persuaded the rest of the group to join the writer, seeing as how Tarrant was still feeling slightly nervous. She hoped that the movie might take his mind off of the morning's events.

"May we join you?" Alice asked, leading the group into the common room.

Mort shrugged.

"Sure, why the hell not?" He moved over so that a few people could fit on the couch with him.

"What are we watching?" Tarrant asked.

Mort's mouth dropped open. "Seriously?"

Tarrant seemed confused. "Am I supposed to know?"

"Uh. Yes. It's only one of the most famous movies ever made! It's Episode IV... A New Hope..." He noticed the blank look on everyone's faces.

"I'm sorry, we have no idea what you're talking about," Mirana finally said.

"Good Lord. You're serious?"

"Yes," Harvey said, starting to get annoyed.

"It's just... _everyone_ knows Star Wars. At least, they've heard of it. They'd recognize it if they saw it."

"We're not from around here," Carlie reminded him.

"Are you from another planet?!" Mort asked, coming off a bit harsher than he'd intended. "I mean, um… Let's just start at the beginning, then."

Carlie nodded, watching as Mort played around with the remote control for the blu-ray player. He flipped the movie back to the beginning.

"Now, you need to read the opening lines. They explain a lot."

A few members of the group nodded, and they all stared at the screen, reading.

By 11 PM, they were almost done with the second movie. Tarrant was starting to nod off, resting his head on Alice's shoulder, while Carlie seemed bored. Mirana and Harvey were both very interested in the movie, and continually asked Mort questions. He was all too happy to answer as best he could, making for some interesting conversation, at least, for the three of them.

Schnabel and Ashley, who had both just finished up with their paperwork for the day, joined the group.

"Ohh, Episode V?" Ashley asked, excitedly.

"Yes! We're going to watch Episode VI soon. This one's almost over."

"Neat. That one's my favorite."

"Really?!" Mort asked. "How did I not know this about you?"

"Well it's not every day that we discuss Star Wars," Ashley replied.

"I named my son Anakin Skywalker."

"Touché. I don't have an answer for you, Mort."

"SHHHH!" Mirana hissed, interrupting them. "I want to see the end!"

"Okay, okay, calm down," Mort said. He and Ashley did get quiet, though.

By the time the movie ended, Tarrant was totally asleep with his head on Alice's shoulder. She was also starting to get tired.

"Perhaps we should call it a night," She suggested, moving to get a bit more comfortable.

"I want to watch the next movie," Mirana said.

"Why don't I just take Tarrant to bed, then, and you guys can watch the next one," Alice replied.

Hearing everyone talking, Tarrant began to stir. "What time is it?" He asked, cracking his eyes open.

"A little past eleven. Come on, let's get you back to your room." Alice wrapped an arm around Tarrant and helped him stand.

"I don't want to miss out," Tarrant replied. "Everyone else is staying up."

"No one else here is eight months pregnant. You need to rest," Alice said.

Tarrant shook his head. "Not fair."

"Come on, you're sounding like a child now," Alice said, shaking her head.

"He's an adult. If he wants to stay up he can stay up," Mort cut in.

"I think you just want him to watch Episode VI with you."

Mort smirked. "Okay, maybe you're right on that."

Harvey sighed loudly, turning all attention towards him. "I think it would be simpler if we just agreed to watch the movie tomorrow. I'm a bit tired now, too."

"Fine," Mort agreed. Mirana shrugged, also in agreement. Tarrant just pouted.

"Still not fair," He said, crossing his arms.

"Life's not fair. Let's go," Alice said, taking Tarrant's hand and leading him back to his room. "We'll see you all tomorrow."

Once they were in Tarrant's room, Alice pulled open his bureau and chose a pair of pajamas for him. All of the sets were ones that Tarrant had made himself, stitched together from various pieces of cloth. She chose one that was mostly red and orange and handed it to him.

Tarrant took the set of PJs and yawned.

"See, told you that you needed to rest."

"Yeah, yeah," He said, unfolding the outfit. He looked at Alice nervously. Even though they were dating, he still felt somewhat shy undressing around her.

"I'll turn around," she said, turning to face the door.

"Thank you," Tarrant mumbled, slipping out of his clothes and into the pajamas. They were a bit snug, considering how far along he was, but he managed to get them on.

"Okay."

Alice turned back around. "All ready, then?"

Tarrant nodded and crawled into bed, yawning again as Alice pulled the comforter around him.

She stayed with him for a few moments, gently running her fingers through his hair.

Just when she thought he'd fallen asleep, Tarrant spoke up. "Alice?" He asked.

"Yes?"

"Can you stay with me tonight?" His voice was soft and small, almost like he was nervous about asking her. "I mean… you can stay with Mirana and Harvey and Carlie if you want. It's okay."

"I'll stay with you, Tarrant. Of course." She leaned in and kissed Tarrant on the forehead.

Tarrant smiled. "Thank you, Alice."

Alice smiled back, and crawled under the covers with him, not bothering to remove her dress. Sighing, she wrapped an arm around Tarrant's waist at least as best as she could. She could feel the baby kicking lightly inside. She was about to ask Tarrant how long she'd been at it for when she heard him snoring. She decided not to wake him.

Before they could watch Star Wars the next morning, Dr. Schnabel asked Tarrant to come in for an exam. He was getting close to his due date, now, and Schnabel wanted to make sure that everything was going well.

There was the usual acts of taking Tarrant's blood pressure, pulse, and weight, before doing an ultrasound. Alice, Carlie, Mirana and Harvey were there in the room with him, and stared in awe at the picture of Tarrant's baby on the screen.

"She's sucking her thumb, as you can see," The doctor explained. "And she's got her other hand free."

"Wow… she actually looks like a real baby," Tarrant said, surprised. Even up to last month, the baby had looked a bit odd, as if not entirely human.

"She's pretty much entirely grown now. A little more to go, but she's fully developed, for the most part," Schnabel said.

"When's the exact due date?" Carlie asked.

"Three weeks from today. Obviously, it could be a bit earlier or a bit later."

"Wow! We're going to be parents in less than a month!" Alice said, happily.

Tarrant nodded. "It went by so quickly…" A nervous look suddenly crossed the hatter's face.

"What's wrong?" Mirana asked, noticing it immediately.

"N-nothing," Tarrant replied. "Just… it just hit me that I'm going to be a father soon, and I have no idea what to do. I didn't prepare much."

As they spoke, Dr. Schnabel began removing the ultrasound gel from Tarrant's stomach.

"You know," The doctor said. "You could probably talk to Mort about it. He didn't expect to have a baby at all, and he's been able to handle it. He might be able to give you some advice."

"That sounds like a great idea," Carlie agreed. "We'll be watching Star Wars with him today anyway."

"Okay," Tarrant agreed, "I'll see what he has to say."

00

The group met up with Mort later in the morning. He was sitting on the common room floor, playing with Anakin.

"Hi, Mort," Alice greeted, as the rest of them took seats on the couches.

"Hey guys. I have the movies ready."

"Great," Mirana replied. "But I think Tarrant wants to talk to you first."

Mort turned to Tarrant, who was looking down at his hands nervously. "Okay. What's up?"

Tarrant opened his mouth, but didn't speak. It almost seemed as if he were trying to figure out what to say.

After a few seconds of silence, Alice spoke up for him. "Tarrant is nervous about fatherhood and wanted to know your thoughts on it. What the hardest parts are, the best parts, all of that."

"Oh," Mort said. "Well, that's a complex question."

"Go on," Tarrant whispered.

"Well, the worst part is the diaper changing, and constant crying, and never having any time to yourself, and always having to put the kid first before any and all of your own needs. Also, the lack of sleep."

Tarrant's eyes got wide. "I see."

"But the best part is knowing that you brought someone into this world who you love more than anything, and who you can raise to be a good person."

Tarrant smiled. "That's nice, I suppose."

"It's the best feeling ever. Seriously, nothing compares to the love you feel for your child."

"I'm sure."

"And of course, your daughter could be good natured. Anakin's a trouble maker by nature."

"Hopefully, she'll be good," Alice said. "But we'll love her no matter what. Plus, Tarrant, you have me here to help you."

"I know, I know. It's still just... a lot to take in, I guess."

"You'll be fine. Really, if I can raise a kid, you can definitely do it. I'm bat shit crazy after all," Mort said, grinning.

"Fair enough," Tarrant agreed. He was starting to feel a little bit better.

"So, movie time, then?" Mort asked hopefully.

"Put the DVD in," Mirana told him.

"Yes ma'am!"

Mort eagerly put the disc into the player, and the intro to the movie began. The group sat silently for the next few hours, watching the movie intently.

00

The following weeks went by quickly. Alice spent a lot of time in Underland at Tarrant's house, preparing for the baby and their new life together. She and Carlie had spent a few days cleaning it out, and getting the items that they felt would be necessary.

Mirana had given them some money so that they could buy a crib and everything else that the baby would need, and Tarrant spent a lot of time making clothes for his daughter. In one week alone, he managed to sew her six outfits, all with various colors and patterns. He also planned ahead, and made a few larger ones for when she got older.

Tarrant found that as time went by, he was feeling less and less like his usual hyperactive self. He'd noticed that he was starting to get tired more often around 7 months, but he'd still always had a lot of energy. Now, with only a week or so left, he felt like sleeping most of the time. Schnabel, Ashley and Alice practically had to pull him out of bed to get him to do basic tasks, like shower and eat.

Today was no different. Alice had come to see Tarrant having spent the past several days working on his, rather, their home in Underland. She was somewhat surprised to see that Tarrant was still wearing the same pajamas as when she'd last been there.

"Tarrant, have you gotten out of bed since I was here last?" She asked, sitting down next to him. He was curled up, as best he could, with the blanket wrapped around him up to his nose.

"I get up to use the bathroom," he mumbled into his pillow.

"But don't you do anything else? Eat? Shower? You had those same pajamas on the last time I was here, three days ago!"

"Don't need to eat," Tarrant replied tiredly. "I'm big enough as it is."

Alice rolled her eyes. "You're pregnant, not fat. You need to eat."

Tarrant just shrugged. He was tired. He didn't feel like doing anything.

"And you need a bath, love." Alice was never one for kissing ass, really. She tended to just get right to the point, and she could actually smell him.

"If I must…" Tarrant replied, trying to sit up.

Alice helped him along, and he sighed, rubbing his lower back.

"Does your back hurt?"

"Yes. It's been hurting for a few days. It's from carrying the baby around, is all. I'm still not used to it, even after almost nine months."

Alice frowned, and rubbed Tarrant's back. "Perhaps a hot bath will help, then." She stood up from the bed, and put her hands out, offering to help Tarrant stand.

Once he was up, she led him to the bathroom, and started running the warm water. Noticing that Tarrant was still in his pajamas, she spoke up. "Do you want me to leave you alone?"

"Um…" Tarrant looked around, nervously. "I dunno."

"If you're embarrassed, I can come back later when you're done, if you think you can get out all right."

Tarrant sighed, still feeling confused as to what he should do.

"I have an idea. Why don't we put some bubbles in the water so it hides things a bit?"

Tarrant smiled. "That's a great idea. That's why I love you, Alice, you're always coming up with good ideas."

Alice smiled and shook her head, "Well, thank you, Tarrant. I love you too." She found the bottle of soap on one of the sides of the tub and began putting some in, watching as bubbles filled the bathtub.

"I'll turn around and you can get in."

Tarrant nodded, and began taking off his clothes once Alice wasn't looking.

Alice could hear him grunting and sighing as he moved. It was probably very hard for him to get into the bathtub. Finally, he told her it was okay to turn back around.

Alice wanted to laugh. Tarrant was sitting in the bathtub, almost entirely covered with white foamy bubbles. There were even some on top of his head.

"How'd you do that?" She asked, wiping them off.

"I dunno. They attacked me."

"The bubbles attacked you?"

"Yes."

"You're being silly, Tarrant." She cracked a smile. "But it's cute."

Tarrant sat there for a while, lying back and enjoying the feeling of the hot water as it relaxed his muscles. Then, suddenly, he let out a soft cry.

"What's wrong?" Alice asked, seeing the look of pure pain on Tarrant's face.

He rested a hand on his stomach. "I think… I think the baby might be coming!"

"Are you sure?"

"It hurts. I think I'm having contractions," Tarrant said, cringing again as another one hit him.

"Okay, alright, don't panic," Alice said, "We need to get you out and down to the delivery room then. Can you stand up?"

Tarrant shook his head. "I think I need help."

"Okay, sure," Alice replied. She was sure that Tarrant could see how nervous she was, but she was trying her best not to show it. "Take my hands and I'll pull you up."

"Okay…"

It took most of her strength, but Alice managed to get the hatter standing. He was still covered in soap suds.

"Here you go," She said, handing him a large towel. "Wrap that around yourself and we're going to walk down the hallway."

Tarrant did as he was told, covering himself with the towel. Once he was dry, Alice wrapped an arm around his back, and helped him out of the bathroom. She could feel Tarrant's arm shaking as they moved, obviously, he was terrified.

"It's okay, you'll be fine, I promise," She told him.

Tarrant said nothing, and she could feel him bracing himself as he was overtaken with pain.

"Come on, we're almost there," She said, leading him into the nearest delivery room. She helped him onto a bed, making sure that his towel was still in place. "I'm going to go get the doctor. You just wait here."

As she was walking away, Tarrant reached out and grabbed her arm. "Please don't leave me here."

Alice's heart broke as she saw how scared and upset Tarrant looked. "I promise, I'll be back in a moment. I just need to get the doctor to come help you."

Reluctantly, Tarrant let go of her.

"I'll be right back," Alice said again. She took off running to find the doctor. The last she'd seen him, he'd been in the common area with Mort, watching Star Wars. Thankfully he was still there.

"Dr. Schnabel!" She called. "I need you to come see Tarrant. I think he's going into labor!"

The doctor nodded calmly. "Alright, alright, calm down. I'll come with you."

He followed Alice down the hall to the room where Tarrant was. The two went inside to find Tarrant lying on the bed, gripping the sheets as tight as he could.

"Are you in pain, Tarrant?" The doctor asked.

"Obviously," Tarrant groaned through gritted teeth.

"Alright. I need to examine you, to see what's going on."

Tarrant nodded in consent, not even caring that Alice was in the room.

"I'm going to see if I can get a message to Carlie and Mirana," She said, excusing herself again momentarily. The only way to get in contact with them would be through mail, and she wondered how long it would take for them to get her note. Hopefully they'd get there within a day or so.

She quickly scribbled a note and put it in an envelope. She was walking towards the mailbox when she noticed Carlie, Mirana and Harvey all walking up the street towards the shelter.

"Guys! I was just writing to you!" She said, running over towards them, "Tarrant's in labor!"

"I TOLD you!" Carlie said. "I can tell when my brother needs me."

"Okay, okay, you were right," Mirana replied, then looked at Alice. "Carlie had a feeling that Tarrant needed us to come, so we decided to see how he was. Good thing we did."

"Perfect timing. Come inside."

Alice showed them to the room where Tarrant was. He was now dressed in a hospital gown, and Dr. Schnabel and Ashley were both in the room.

"So, what's the verdict?" Alice asked.

"He's 4 cm dilated, so, the baby will be out soon."

"Ohh," Tarrant groaned as he felt another contraction hit him. "It hurts!"

Alice took hold of his hand, and squeezed it. "It'll be okay."

"When he gets to 6 cm, we'll administer an epidural," Ashley said. "It should help the pain."

"Hopefully…" Tarrant answered, closing his eyes. "Hopefully I'm not like Sam…"

"Don't worry about that, you won't feel any pain," Carlie said, taking Tarrant's other hand.

Tarrant nodded. "I'm still scared. It hurts."

"It'll be fine, I promise."

Alice could see that tears were starting to form in Tarrant's eyes. "I mean it REALLY hurts."

Now everyone was starting to get concerned.

"Is that normal?" Carlie asked Dr. Schnabel.

"Well... He shouldn't be in THAT much pain. Let me check him again."

Everyone turned around while Dr. Schnabel did his exam, and could hear Tarrant groaning the whole time.

"Everything looks fine, this delivery is going completely normally. Tarrant, I think you're just stressing yourself out a bit."

Tarrant's friends turned back around, and could see tears running down his face.

"I think something's wrong," He whispered.

"Sweetheart, you have to stop being so worried... It's making you feel worse," Alice said, gently running her fingers through his hair.

"Would it help convince you if I did an exam as well?" Harvey asked. If Tarrant's problems were truly mostly psychological, perhaps having a second doctor confirm that all was well would help him calm down.

Tarrant's eyes got wide. The thought of having his friend's fiancé look him over seemed scary. He didn't really see Dr. Schnabel as a friend, so it was a bit easier with him... but he was a bit closer to Harvey.

"It'll only take a moment," Harvey added.

Alice squeezed Tarrant's hand again. "Let him examine you, so you can put your mind at ease."

Tarrant sighed, but finally agreed.

Once again, everyone turned around. Tarrant couldn't help but feel extremely embarrassed as Harvey looked him over. It was probably the most humiliating moment of his life, next to when Stayne had raped him. He didn't want to think about that now, though. Definitely not.

He could feel Harvey poking and prodding him, and it just brought back more memories. He tried his best to push them away, but they weren't fading.

Then he heard Harvey's voice.

"Dr. Schnabel is right, everything's going normally. There's no reason for you to be in as much pain as you are."

Tarrant nodded and sniffled. "If you're sure."

"I'm sure."

Everyone turned around again. Tarrant still had tears pouring from his eyes.

"Come on, little brother," Carlie said, forcing a smile. "Would I ever let anything happen to you?"

"N-no," Tarrant stuttered.

"I'm telling you that you'll be fine, you just need to calm down, so please trust me when I say that." She looked Tarrant directly in the eyes.

"Okay..." Tarrant replied. He seemed to calm a bit.

"Good boy."

Tarrant started to smile, but groaned as another contraction came.

"They're starting to get more frequent," Schnabel said. "Perhaps we can administer the epidural now. Tarrant needs to lie on his side."

"You heard the doctor," Carlie said. "Turn over."

"Ugh," Tarrant sighed. "I can't."

"Yes you can, come on." Carlie rested a hand on Tarrant's shoulder, and started to help him move.

Frowning, Tarrant eventually managed to get onto his side, though it felt very uncomfortable.

"Good job," Schnabel said, trying to keep Tarrant calm, "Now you're going to feel a little pinch as I do the epidural."

Tarrant yelped as the doctor inserted the needle into his back, so Alice put a hand on his side to calm him and keep him still.

"You can't move, love, just let the doctor do his job."

"This is uncomfortable," Tarrant said, looking up at Alice with big sad eyes.

"It's almost done."

"Okay, we're good," The doctor announced a second later. "Tarrant, you'll feel better in a few seconds."

Sure enough, a few seconds did pass by and Tarrant felt physically better. He seemed to calm down a bit.

"There ya go, all better now, right?" Alice asked, helping Tarrant turn onto his back once again.

"Yes, thank you," Tarrant said, though he still looked a bit frightened.

"You're at 6 cm," The doctor informed him. "Still another four to go before you'll have to start pushing."

Tarrant squeezed Alice's hand as hard as he could, feeling very nervous. He just wanted this to be over with. Having to be in labor for much longer was a scary thought to him. All he could think was that the epidural might wear off, and he'd be in horrible pain.

Carlie's voice broke him out of his thoughts. "Tarrant! Stop panicking! I can see it all over your face."

"I just want this to be over," He whispered.

"It'll be over soon, and we'll be here the entire time with you."

"Okay."

An hour and a half went by before Tarrant moved up to 8cm, and it was another hour after that before he was at ten. All in all, it was actually a relatively normally-paced labor, but it didn't feel that way to him. Every minute felt like an hour and every hour felt like a day.

When it finally was time to push, the doctor let him know.

"Tarrant, the baby is going to come soon, so you need to help her come out."

"I'm afraid," He said, eyes filling with tears.

"You'll be fine. Take a deep breath, and then on the count of three, push, ok?"

Tarrant nodded weakly.

"One, two, three," The doctor counted. "Push."

Tarrant pushed, gripping Carlie and Alice's hands as he did. He could feel the baby moving down and pressing up against his insides. It wasn't painful, but very uncomfortable.

"Okay, you need to push again."

Tarrant sighed. "Alright..."

Alice held his hand tighter. "It's okay, darling, you'll be okay. You can do this."

Tarrant nodded again, then pushed as hard as possible.

"A few more."

Tarrant could suddenly feel something wet between his legs, and he noticed that Alice and Carlie were looking down at him.

"What... happened?" He asked, terrified at what the answer might be.

"Nothing, don't worry about it." Alice replied.

"No... tell me."

"It's just a little blood. Don't worry about it," Carlie said.

Tarrant glanced down and could see blood on the sheets. He was thankful that he couldn't see below his stomach.

"Oh... my... God..." He said under his breath.

The doctor could tell that he was starting to hyperventilate.

"Tarrant, it's okay, it's normal to bleed a little," Schnabel said. "And you need to push again. The baby's almost here."

Tarrant started breathing harder, obviously panicking, as tears filled his eyes.

"It's fine, love, I promise!" Carlie said. "Now do what the doctor said."

Tarrant closed his eyes, and used all of his strength to push one more time. He could feel the baby coming out of him, stretching him as it did.

The next thing he knew, there was a baby crying.

"You did it!" Alice said, watching as Ashley cleaned the infant off. "You did a great job!"

"Oh..." Tarrant said softly. "It's over?"

"Yes, and she's so beautiful," Alice said. "I'll love her as if she were my own."


	52. Epilogue

_**Epilogue**_

Tarrant and Alice moved into Tarrant's house in Underland together, where they began to raise their daughter, Daisy Carlie Mirana Hightopp. Neither the Red Queen, nor Stayne, bothered them. Within a year, Alice had proposed to Tarrant, and they began planning a wedding.

Jack, Angelica, and Angela continued to sail around the world. Jack and Angelica made it a point to show Angela as many sights as possible. They kept in contact with their friends from St. Joseph's by sending them videos as often as they could.

Sam, Joon, Edward and their kids all continued to live together. Sam and Joon paid for Edward to take some sculpture classes at the local community college, where he excelled. Sam went back to work at the video store part time.

Wonka continued living at his factory and raising Rae. He decided not to have any more children and kept in contact with some of the people from the shelter generally by mail.

Mort moved out of St. Joseph's and back into his house in the woods, taking Anakin with him. His mother moved in as well to help him raise the baby. She also helped to run the house, as Mort still had some problems with memory due to his heart attack and the lack of oxygen that followed. He also brought Buster home with them, and the cat lived happily chasing small animals in the house and into the woods.

In time, Gilbert's son Tommy started to like him more, and thus stopped screaming every time Gilbert held him. Becky continued to work while Gilbert watched Tommy, and the two planned to get married as soon as possible.

Sweeney raised Emma with the help of Mrs. Lovett, Johanna, and Anthony. He felt slightly less angry than he had in the past, because Emma made him happy and he loved her very much.

Anthony and Johanna visited Sweeney very often, and themselves tried to get pregnant again. They wanted a family of their own. They, along with Marmalade, lived a short distance from the shelter and often stopped by to say hi to Dr. Schnabel and Ashley.

Ichabod and Katrina raised Jackson together, but frequently fought. Ichabod had problems with his medications for a while but eventually he stabilized. In time, Ichabod started back at work at the police station, though he was occasionally mocked by coworkers. However, the return to a typical domestic life made Katrina happier overall.

Dr. Schnabel and Ashley continued to run St. Joseph's Shelter and also continued to provide free medical care to their past residents and children.

THE END (for now).


End file.
